Fiercer Than Fire
by Aranel Carnilino
Summary: AU. BagginShield. Fem!Bilbo (Billa). A Re-imagining of the Quest of Erebor. Billa Baggins is not your average burglar, but she's always had a certain spark. Something Thorin initially resents, and ultimately grows to love. Begins with Billa's meeting of Thorin Oakenshield and carries through the events of the Erebor's reclaiming... and beyond. Co-authored with Eleanor Damaschke.
1. Chapter I - Wolf Eyes

**Fiercer Than Fire: A Reimagining of the Quest of Erebor **

_By Aranel Carnilino and Eleanor Damaschke _

_One_

Billa Baggins watched, trying not to look too distressed as her grandmother's dishes were thrown hither and yon, flying recklessly down the hallway like very heavy, very expensive pie tins. The dwarves finished their ridiculous song and she edged into the kitchen to see her dishes stacked neatly on the table. Her knees went weak with relief.

"You lot are lucky none of these broke," she muttered, touching one of the dishes gently. A thunderous knock boomed through the house, and every eye turned toward the front door. Gandalf grasped his staff, and Billa could have sworn there was a smile in his old eyes.

"He's here."

The dwarves suddenly became very serious, and Billa shifted, taking a step toward the door and shooting a nervous glance at the wizard.

"Who's here?"

The two of them moved toward the door and Gandalf opened it with a grand air.

Billa stared at the newcomer. If the others had been outlandish, this one was perfectly wild. He was wearing braids and beads in his shaggy dark hair, and his eyes were the color she imagined a wolf's eyes might be, at night in the firelight. The fur around his collar only added to the 'wild beast' impression she was getting from him.

"Miss Baggins, may I present the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield." There was a certain note of grandeur (and was that pride?) in Gandalf's voice as he spoke. Billa wasn't sure what to think at all, so she tugged her housecoat a little more tightly around her body.

"I thought you said this place would be easy to find," growled the dwarf, eyes narrowed as he glanced up at the Wizard. "I lost my way. Twice. If it weren't for the symbol on the door, I wouldn't have found it at all."

"Symbol? What symbol? There's no symbol on that door. I just painted it last week!" Billa lurched forward, catching the door before Thorin could push it shut. "There had better not be a... oh, bebother and confusticate this whole stupid thing! Gandalf!" She gave the Wizard an appalled look. Scratching on her lovely green door like that. Terribly unfriendly. Not good for guests at all.

"So... this is the hobbit." A deep voice very near at hand drew her attention back to the leader. Thorn, was it? Or something like it. Billa was startled when she had to tip her head up quite a bit to look into his face. She had known, from very recent and overwhelming experience, that dwarves were taller than hobbits by a good measure. This, however... this was quite another matter. She felt like she was looking up at one of the Big Folk. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes making her feel rather small and vulnerable. "She looks more like a dormouse than a burglar."

"Yes, I'm a hobbit. Billa Baggins, at your service. Now, kindly wipe your shoes, though I doubt it'll do any good." She frowned at him. "Your Company have already ruined my carpets. It'll take me a week of scrubbing to get them clean again."

He conveniently ignored her demands concerning his boots, staring her up and down evaluatively. "Tell me, Miss Baggins, have you done any fighting?" He smirked lightly.

_Oh, you'll see some fighting alright._ "I assure you, Master Dwarf," she replied somewhat waspishly, "that I only ever fight when absolutely necessary." This gathering was getting to be maddening. Gandalf laughed deep in his throat.

"And I think I can safely assume it hasn't been necessary for you yet." Thorin glanced at Gandalf. If appearances were anything to go by, the Wizard was going to have a good deal of explaining to do. Miss Baggins was short and slight, quite literally dwarfed by the dwarves. The halfling (or "hobbit," as the locals evidently called themselves) was hiding inside an outlandish coat that seemed to be made of brightly colored cloth squares all sewn together. She had light brown, curly hair and dark eyes set in a child-like face. No, she was not at all what Thorin had expected.

The dwarf swept his fur-lined cloak back over his shoulders. The hobbit was still squeaking indignantly about her carpets when Thorin caught her gaze. He held it a moment, looking for weakness, looking to see if she'd quail at the intensity of his eyes. She endured longer than most, and he nodded, mildly impressed.

"You see?" said Gandalf. "Plenty of spirit, and she's light on her feet. Quick-fingered and clever, in the way of her folk." The Wizard's praise fell on deaf ears as Billa looked around at the dwarves now crowding into her entryway, watching their young leader with silent respect.

Thorin greeted the others with a nod, reserving a rare smile for Fili and Kili, his nephews. The dark-haired dwarf pressed through the others and hung his cloak on a hook in the hallway, then turned to Gandalf. "Everyone has already eaten, I expect?"

Bombur looked tremendously guilty.

"Yes, but I saved some stew for you," Balin called. "Heating over the fire as we speak."

A collective sigh of relief filled the room, though Bombur still looked guilty.

At the table, Thorin related the news of his meeting in Ered Luin between spoonfuls of stew. It was a good stew, he thought in passing. If nothing else, Miss Baggins seemed to be a decent cook.

"So they won't come," said Dwalin, disappointedly. "We're on our own, then."

Thorin made a dismissive sound. "I expected it from the first. They'll not come unless I am in possession of the Arkenstone, which would demonstrate that my purpose is divinely mandated. If we can find the King's Jewel, they will join us. And if they join us, we will have a chance against Smaug."

"That's why you need a burglar," said Gandalf, puffing determinedly at his pipe. "Someone who can sneak into Smaug's lair and find the jewel without being seen."

Thorin cocked an eye at the halfling, who was standing awkwardly in the corner off to his left, observing the conversation. "So you've chosen her to be this burglar?" He snorted lightly. "Miss Baggins, do you even know what a dragon is?" He honestly couldn't imagine that she had actually agreed to this; had Gandalf told her _anything_?

Something about the way this dwarf simply dismissed whatever skills she might or might not have had rubbed the halfling the wrong way. She bristled, but listened in silence. They were a strange bunch, to be sure. When their attention returned to her, Billa had to close her mouth quickly to avoid looking the village idiot. Dragon? She opened her mouth and closed it again several times, hoping the words would come to her, but that failed, leaving her making a mockery of a dying fish instead of intelligent conversation.

"You know, big, scaly, bat-wings... breathes fire?" One of the dwarves offered helpfully, smirking at the flabbergasted hobbit.

"I know what a dragon is," she snapped impatiently. Taking a moment to regain her composure, she took a deep breath. "With the greatest possible respect... have you all lost your minds?" Billa turned a disbelieving look on Gandalf, whose eyebrows were raised as though he were somehow innocent.

"Gandalf, do you sincerely expect me to go on some obscure quest with thirteen men, ruin my good prospects as they are, travel who-knows-how-far and steal from a dragon's hoard? You have clearly lost what little sense you had!" She paused. "No offense meant, of course. I'm sure it's a very noble quest, and I'm happy to offer what services I can. I believe I have some cakes in the pantry you didn't raid yet, and there are plenty of beds here. You are all free to spend the night and I'll send you on your way in the morning with a good breakfast under your belts. But that's as far as my hospitality goes, thank you very much. I'm a respectable hobbit, and have no need for journeys, quests, or dragons." She finished with an air of finality, nodding firmly as though that quite closed the topic.

"Billa Baggins," said Gandalf in a tone that allowed no form of argument, "you will not be leaving your guests in a time of need."

"Leaving—?" Billa frowned. "I'm not leaving anyone. Look, this isn't my problem. Obviously, they need to find a real burglar, because I'm not."

"These dwarves fight for their homeland and you say that you can do nothing." Gandalf stood up, moving closer to the hobbit and towering over her as only one of the Big Folk could. "I happen to know there is more in you than even you know. Where is the hobbit I knew as a child, who begged her mother for tales of grand adventures and ran away from home at every opportunity? Miss Baggins, these are your guests and they need your help, whether they know it or not."

There was a pause, and Billa gestured, as though trying to find words that simply wouldn't come. At last, she sighed, looking defeated.

"Hear me, Wizard. I will get back at you for this. Someday, somehow, I will have my good and just reward, and you will regret this."

With a huff, she turned to Thorin and offered a slight bow. "As your hostess, I offer you my services as they are—whether as cook or... burglar. If you would kindly give me the details of your quest, I shall take those into consideration." Her words were formal, but there was a resigned sort of excitement in her brown eyes.

Balin stood up with a smile. "Excellent! Here's your contract."

Billa took the paper with a curious look that quickly turned to alarm as she unfolded it and saw its length and numerous clauses. She mumbled as she read, frowning at the paper. Words like "funeral," "lacerations," and "incineration" were louder than the others.

"Oh, yeah," offered Bofur with a grin. "Dragonfire'll melt the flesh off your bones right enough." Billa stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. She tried to regain some form of composure, but ultimately had to sit down, looking very green.

Thorin turned to the old wizard, shaking his shaggy head. "Gandalf, I will be plain in saying I do not see the wisdom of this. But since you are so determined to have your way, I'll give it to you. However, understand now: I cannot be held responsible for her fate."

Gandalf nodded slowly. "Agreed."

Thorin absently tapped his spoon against his mostly empty wooden bowl. "That said, I reserve the right to designate someone else to the task of seeking the Arkenstone. If her reaction at the mere mention of a dragon's wrath has this effect on her, how will she react in the presence of a real one?"

Gandalf cleared his throat. "That remains to be seen. I expect you will be very surprised. Hobbits seem docile and homely, but are fierce as a dragon in a pinch."

"For all our sakes, I hope you're right," said Thorin, heaving a sigh.

He was imagining all sorts of awkward and inconvenient scenarios. The hobbit fainting at the sight of an owl. The hobbit wailing and begging to go home halfway through the journey. The hobbit screaming in terror at the first sign of danger, complicating and muddling their quest.

Perhaps these were far-fetched. The most realistic and potentially deadly inconvenience, he thought, would be if the other members of the company neglected their duties through a need to dote on her, protect her, or cater to her every whim. Even he could admit she was, well, rather attractive. _As far as halflings go, that is_, he amended to himself.


	2. Chapter II - The Journey Begins

_Two_

The morning was productive. Billa woke up early and (in her own words) "scrounged together" a massive breakfast. Then, as the dwarves ate, she put her house in order, locking doors and putting things away. When they were finished eating, she sent them on their way to get the ponies, promising to follow as soon as she could.

The hobbit then proceeded to lose track of time as she washed the dishes and scrubbed the floors, wiped away mud and grime, and put her kitchen back in order. Though she lamented the fact that there was hardly a scrap of food to be found in her precious hobbit-hole, she knew it mattered very little.

It was as she was stuffing her mother's old traveling clothes into a bag that Gandalf appeared at her window.

"What are you still doing here?" he demanded, frowning at her.

Billa glanced at him, surprised to see the wizard standing in her garden. "Packing. What are you doing?"

"Coming to tell you that you're late."

"Late?" Billa felt somewhere between exasperated and ashamed. Her mother would have given her a dreadful scolding if she were here.

"Yes, late."

"But I haven't finished—"

"No. You need to go. Now."

"But Gandalf!"

"If you keep them waiting much longer, they'll leave without you!"

So Billa found herself with a pack slung haphazardly over one shoulder, still in the dress she only wore for cleaning-days, running as fast as her furry feet would carry her toward the edge of town. Part of her resented being dragged out of her home with no respect for the proper way of things, but that part was drowned out by the growing sense of importance and excitement that glowed like a hot coal in her chest.

She was out of breath and flushed, quite winded by her run when she trotted up to the dwarves and their restless ponies.

"Miss Boggins!" Fili grinned at her broadly and offered her the reins to a small, docile-looking creature with ragged ears and a back that drooped with age. "Glad you could join us. We were afraid you'd forgotten." Billa pushed her disheveled hair out of her eyes and looked at the pony with apprehension on her face.

"We're riding?" she asked nervously. Fili laughed.

"Of course. You didn't think we were going to _walk_ to the Lonely Mountain, did you?"

Billa shifted. "Well, I had thought," she started, but the young dwarf tossed the reins to her and laughed again.

"Keep thinking, Miss Boggins. We ride!" The others had already started to move away, and poor Billa had to scramble up into the sway-backed pony's saddle by herself, which was not at all a pleasant venture. Luckily for her, the animal seemed to know what was expected of it and followed the others at a trot. She thought the pony was surprisingly spritely for its apparent age, but didn't want to draw attention to the fact that every time it took a step, she felt like she was about to fall out of the saddle. In fact, she did so a number of times before she finally found the proper rhythm. And even then, it was terribly uncomfortable.

* * *

When dusk fell, the company had covered some fifteen miles. They set up camp at the base of a rocky cliffside, a place Dwalin assured them was defensible. The ponies were picketed in the grass nearby, and Nori and Ori saw to their care, though Thorin, as always, groomed his own beast. Gloin started a fire with his tinderbox and some kindling he'd brought, using some of the dry brush nearby for fuel. Bombur set about preparing the evening meal.

"Would you mind helping me here, Miss Baggins?" the ample dwarf asked courteously. "I'm trying to make a stew, and, well, after sampling a bit of yours from yesterday, I think I could learn a few things."

Thorin, sitting nearby, scoffed to himself. _Sampling_ was an interesting way of putting it. Bombur had eaten four bowls of stew if he'd eaten one. At any rate, he thought Miss Baggins would, for the time being, make a decent cook's assistant in the company. Whether she ever became anything else was not something he felt confident enough yet to predict.

So far, she hadn't come to him wailing to go home. She hadn't begun grousing about missing her teatime. She hadn't even complained about the pony, which, for a first-time rider who spent a good portion of the journey thus far falling out of the saddle, was promising. Then again, they also hadn't yet left the Shire.

Billa, who was tenderly rubbing various parts of her bruised anatomy, glanced at Bombur with a relieved smile. At last, something she could help with. Taking the opportunity to be useful, she assisted Bombur with the cooking, offering helpful insights about cooking over an open fire and various spices that worked well with wild vegetables that grew under the trees nearby. When the dwarf asked her how she'd learned to cook outdoors, the hobbit looked rather embarrassed and admitted that she'd done quite a bit of nighttime roaming in this area as a youngster.

"Mother could always tell if I hadn't eaten, so I took to feeding myself with what I could find. It always tasted better cooked, so..." She trailed off with a shrug.

Balin glanced at her with interest. "Are you any good at hunting?" he asked curiously.

Billa blanched and made a face. "No. I tried, but I prefer my food to be dead before I see it. It's one thing to skin a rabbit, another thing entirely to kill it."

Fili snickered. "Poor little burglar doesn't like to get her hands dirty," he joked, nudging his brother. "So if we end up fighting goblins, which one of us gets to protect her?"

"Goblins?" Billa frowned at him and tried not to show how much the thought bothered her. Goblins were another thing she didn't want to face. Goblins and dragons—what next? She wasn't sure she wanted to know, or even think about it.

Thorin shook his head lightly, adjusting one of the leather straps on his bracers. It wasn't as if he was surprised she wasn't fighting material, but if the very thought of killing at need bothered her… she was probably not going to do well in his Company.

Suddenly, there was a howl, and though it was distant, its mournful sound pierced through the night. Thorin stiffened. He'd dealt with wolves before, but he didn't particularly welcome the thought of reckoning with them again. He drew his coat more tightly around him, remembering the great grey wolf he'd killed and skinned for its fur mantle.

"Goblins _and_ orcs," Kili was saying, feigning a sober, frightened face. Teasing the burglar was turning out to be far too much fun. "I'd say we'll both have to be on the watch at all times, brother. They strike in the wee small hours of the night, quick and quiet. You're dead before you've even had a chance to wake, blood everywhere. Isn't that right, Fili?"

Billa was starting to turn green again. She listened to the howling and shivered slightly. It had been many months since she'd heard that particular sound, although, if memory served, it was the wrong time of year. And that wolf sounded too... dark. Too deep. It was a deeper sound. She wasn't sure, so Billa wasn't about to say anything about it, but the thought was there nonetheless.

Fili nodded gravely, eyes sparkling with silent laughter. "I've seen it before. Nasty things. They come out of nowhere, no warning at all." He watched the hobbit, trying not to smirk. "Tell me, Miss Baggins, how fast can you run?" There was a slight pause as everyone waited for her to react.

Billa shuddered and took a deep, shaky breath. "I think it might be wise," she said softly, hoping they couldn't hear the way her voice quavered, "for me to learn something about fighting. I may not like it, but I imagine that if there will be goblins and orcs," she shot Fili and Kili a glance that said plainly she hoped there were no such encounters in their future, "it will be... necessary." Her gaze slid over to Thorin, and she felt her stomach turn over when she saw that he was frowning at her.

Quickly averting her eyes, an action that made Fili chuckle, the halfling stood up, her bare, furry feet silent on the dirt. She murmured to Bombur that she would return shortly, and then Billa moved off to take shelter near the ponies, away from the dwarves. Not the wisest thing, she thought, if there were to be an attack, but this deep in the Shire, she sincerely doubted any such thing was in their immediate future.

Kili forced back a grin. "Fili's right, Billa. You'd be much better off running than trying to fight. Of course, if _we're_ dead, neither will do you much good. Then again, I don't know. I guess you could always try reasoning with them." He laughed, nudging Fili.

Thorin stood stiffly, stalking over to his nephews. "Enough. Both of you. A night raid by orcs is not a joke. It's not funny." He glowered at them.

Kili lowered his eyes, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Uncle. We… we didn't mean anything by it."

"No. You didn't," Thorin growled, turning away. "You know _nothing_ of the world."

He moved to the edge of the circle of firelight, staring out across the night-shrouded fields. His nephews had, after all, lost their own father to an orc attack when they were young boys. Did the thought not sober them at all? They were not taking the perils of this venture seriously, and it bothered him to no end. He'd promised their mother he would defend them to the death, and he meant to do so. That included protecting them from their own folly and naiveté.

Bofur, who had been polishing his axe, set it down and stood up, hat in hand. He walked over to Billa. "My apologies for their behavior, Miss Baggins," he said delicately, worrying with his hat. "They're just boys, after all. They didn't mean any harm."

Billa glanced up at him and smiled shakily. "I know. I just..." She hesitated, as though unsure of how much to share. "I made this my quest too, when I joined you. I don't want to be useless. But I know I am." With a huff, she shook her head and smiled self-consciously up at the dwarf.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't go worrying you about this. I'll be fine. Thank you for caring." The halfling took another deep breath and pushed herself to her feet. With a nod to Bofur and a grateful smile, she touched his arm and moved back toward the fire. Now that she'd had a chance to calm down, she looked much less likely to faint or get sick, though the distant howling continued to make her shiver.


	3. Chapter III - The Missing Ponies

_Three_

They'd been journeying together for two weeks, maybe more. Billa was losing track of the time as she settled into the rhythm of traveling with the dwarves. Gandalf and Thorin drove them hard, but having never gone any further than the River, Billa wasn't aware that this was any different from a normal trip. She adjusted as well as she could and kept mostly to herself, though she and Bombur thoroughly enjoyed conversations about food when neither of them were otherwise occupied. She found his appreciation for her cooking to be flattering, and took every opportunity to swap recipes with him. Really, she thought, if it weren't for Bombur, she might not have survived this first leg of the trip at all. The fat dwarf was a cheerful soul, and kept her grounded when she longed for the comforts of her own kitchen.

It was on a particularly chilly night, after Gandalf had left the Company rather suddenly following an argument with Thorin, that she found herself taking Fili and Kili their supper (they had pony-watching duty that night). She noticed almost instantly that they weren't their usual cheerful selves. Both dwarves stood very quietly, staring intently at the ponies. Billa frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"We're watching the ponies," said Fili with a frown. "Only, there's a slight problem."

Kili glanced at Billa. "We had sixteen ponies. Now there's... fourteen."

Thorin was going to be absolutely furious. He would want to know just how the two brothers had failed to notice two of the ponies vanishing. Then Kili would have to admit that Fili and he had been quite occupied trying to knock an apple off an old fence-post with stones from increasingly further and further distances. He might even have to mention the quarrel that ensued afterward when Fili insisted he had cheated. And possibly he'd have to bring up the wrestling match that was supposed to settle the matter, but only ended up dragging on and on amidst gales of laughter (and, apparently, sometime during all this, two ponies vaporizing).

Kili was quite certain that when his uncle found out, he would very soon be short two nephews. The only solution that came to Kili's mind was that they needed to find the absent ponies _before_ Thorin found out.

"So, Miss Baggins," he said, smiling nervously, "as our designated burglar, we were thinking maybe... _you_ could look into the mystery of the missing ponies."

Billa glanced from one brother to the other, eyes wide with surprise. "_Me?_ You're… but..." She hesitated.

Fili pointed into the distance. "Look, there's a light that way. Maybe they wandered off." He smiled at Billa. "I'm sure a quiet little thing like you could sneak right over there and never be noticed."

"Wait. You want me to find your missing ponies, because you think flattery really works that well and because you don't want Thorin to get mad at you."

Kili feigned shock. "What? No. No. That thought never occurred to us." He leaned down to her eye level, whispering conspiratorially. "What we're really trying to do is give you an opportunity to prove yourself to Thorin. He thinks you can't do anything besides cook. So being the kind, selfless souls that we are," he nudged Fili, "we're offering you a chance to shine. In more of a burglar capacity."

He nodded, straightening again. "So off you go, Billa. Oh, and if you get into any trouble, hoot once like a barn owl, and twice like a brown owl." He grinned at his brother. "Come on, Billa. You'll be great."

Billa actually laughed at that. "Hoot? No. I'm not an owl, I'm a hobbit, and I have altogether more sense than that. Look, you two, either you can come with me, or you can go tell Thorin right now, while I watch the ponies for you."

"Fine job," muttered Fili, gazing out at the animals again. "Now there're two more missing."

Billa turned to stare at the ponies. Sure enough, there were only twelve. "And you're sure they're not wandering off?" She glanced hopefully at Kili, disliking the idea that someone was stealing them. Horse thieves. Never would have had to deal with this in the Shire.

Kili's gaze shifted back to the quietly grazing ponies, and he quickly counted them. It wasn't that he didn't believe Fili, but it seemed unthinkable that the beasts could have been taken quite literally under their noses. He blinked twice, forgetting for a moment his bid to let their burglar "shine." He slipped stealthily between the bushes and tufts of tall grass, hoping he'd spot something fishy that would give them more of a lead.

About a stone's throw away, he noticed a young aspen tree had been broken in half about midway up its slender trunk. Its sparsely-leaved top jutted down at an angle, clinging by a few thin strips of bark. He moved toward it, squinting. "What do you make of that?" he whispered in wonder, turning back to Fili and Billa. "What could have broken it off so high up?"

Fili and Billa exchanged a nervous glance.

"Something big," said Billa unhappily.

"Something careless." Fili frowned at the sapling. "How did we not hear that?"

"Maybe it happened while you two were scuffling around in the dirt." Billa smirked slightly, though her eyes held a good deal more fear than she'd like to have admitted. Fili started guiltily.

"What? We weren't—" He paused when Billa nodded to his shoulder, and Fili felt the rough fabric. There were bits of leaf and twig stuck to him. "Oh."

The hobbit pushed their bowls of stew into their hands, her expression slightly grim. "Alright. I'll go scout ahead—scout, mind you—and see what it is that's taking our ponies. If I scream, you two had _better_ be ready to help me. With luck, I'll be back in a jiffy and no one will be any the wiser." _Especially whatever's stealing our animals._ She didn't like the idea of coming face to face with something big enough to pick up a pony and carry it off.

"Right!" said Kili, surprised that the stew was still warm. "Are you sure you don't want to try the owl thing?"

He watched her move away on her nearly noiseless furry feet, then turned to Fili. "You sure she'll be alright?" he whispered. "I didn't realize... do you think we should follow her?"

Fili didn't answer immediately, too busy shoveling the delicious stew into his mouth. It must have been Billa's turn to cook tonight. He swallowed, looked pensively after the unseen hobbit, then sighed.

"Yes, I suppose we should." The blond paused for a moment, thinking. "She might not know any better, I guess. Wander right into the middle of a horse-thief camp. Might need rescuing."

Billa crept noiselessly through the bushes until she was just outside the ring of firelight. What she saw made her heart turn cold. Massive creatures, grotesque parodies of the Big Folk from Bree, squatting around the fire, grunting at one another. One of them was just setting the last of four ponies into a crude pen. She recognized Minty and Misty, a matched pair that Nori and Ori usually rode.

The halfling was so repulsed by these things that it took her several long moments to realize that they were actually speaking words in a tongue she understood.

"Mutton yesterday," grunted one in a malcontent sort of tone, "mutton today. And blimey if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow."

"These ain't sheeps," growled the one checking the pen. "These is fresh nags."

"Shut up the both o' ya," snarled the third, who was stirring a massive pot, "and finish yer mutton."

Kili hissed back at his brother through the bushes, terror and excitement in his dark eyes. "Fili, trolls! Three of 'em. You'd better go get Thorin. I'll wait here and… keep an eye on them, I guess." All concern for the trouble they would be in when their uncle found out about the missing ponies was forgotten in an instant. Besides, surely Thorin would understand his nephews couldn't have done much to prevent _trolls_ from making off with their ponies.

Fili flashed his brother a grin. "Save some for me," he mouthed, grabbing Kili's empty bowl and making off back the way they'd come, stealthily as he could. Luckily for him, trolls aren't especially observant.


	4. Chapter IV - Trolls

_Four_

Kili watched, half-horrified, as Billa stepped into the clearing from the side opposite, just out of the reach of the firelight. What was she thinking? Surely she knew better than to... or did she? This could not end well.

The knots on the pen looked simple enough. Billa crept closer to it, keeping an eye on the trolls as they shifted and grunted. Their conversation was supremely unintelligent, she thought, and it must have taken all their concentration to think of so many words to string together, because none of them noticed the tiny hobbit moving at the edge of the firelight. The posts nearest the trees were tied with thick, grimy rope, but the segments closer to the middle of the clearing looked like they were unstable, wobbling when the ponies bumped into them.

Misty tossed her head and snorted when she saw Billa, and the hobbit tried to shush her with silent gestures. Glancing fearfully at the trolls, she was relieved to see that none of them had heard the pony. Taking a steadying breath, she edged out toward the knot that looked loosest and started to work at it, stealing nervous looks at the trolls as they argued over how their food tasted.

* * *

Fili stumbled into their own camp and nearly fell over Bofur, who was rebraiding his beard.

"Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin! Trolls!" Immediately, the company was on high alert, and Fili hurried on. "Trolls took some of our ponies, so we followed them, they're over the rise just that way, and Billa's—"

"Billa?" Balin lifted his head, looking startled.

Bombur frowned. "You mean to say you let that poor little 'obbit walk right into a troll camp?" The fat dwarf had grown immensely fond of Miss Baggins, and the notion of losing her to a troll's appetite was rather unsettling.

Thorin leveled a scathing look on Fili. "I thought you knew better than that." He shook his head, forging a quick plan of action with Dwalin and preparing the group before leading the clanking, but relatively stealthy party in the direction Fili had indicated. The dark-haired dwarf was still fuming to himself as he negotiated the rough, brushy terrain, both deeply disappointed and angry with his nephews. He would have a serious talk with them when this was over. Hopefully the halfling would not pay for their foolishness.

* * *

Kili, meanwhile, was having a silent heart attack. He was gesturing frantically from the bushes at the sneaking hobbit, trying to get her attention, but thus far, she didn't seem to have noticed him.

"Come on, Billa," he muttered under his breath. "Don't be stupid. They're just ponies." Sweat was beginning to drip down his face as he internally debated just how good his odds of killing three trolls on his own might be. Or at least grabbing Billa and getting away intact. Even _he_ didn't have the hubris to assume he'd fare well in either scenario.

Freeing the ponies wasn't going well. The knot, though comparatively loose, was too big to be undone by one so small. Billa briefly contemplated stealing a knife that was stuck through the band of one troll's loincloth, but decided she'd rather not touch it if the circumstance could be avoided. She spotted Kili's frantic waving and had an idea. Noiselessly, she snuck back into the trees - or she tried to.

"Oi!" One of the trolls had spotted her and made a wild grab for her legs. Billa froze, but the stillness lasted for only a fraction of a second. Another troll yelled and she bolted. The first troll actually crashed into the trees after her, and the hobbit tore through the undergrowth as fast as her little legs could carry her.

Unfortunately, she was neither particularly fast nor was she very familiar with these particular woods. The troll, being larger and longer-legged, kept up, but his first several attempts to catch her resulted in handfuls of dirt or tree rather than hobbit. He did catch her, though, and squeezed her hard enough that her eyes watered and her lungs hurt.

"Lookit wot I got!" squealed the troll. (That was a disturbing concept in itself. Trolls should never squeal.)

"Wot is it?"

"I dunno. Wot are you?"

"Someone that needs to breathe," she wheezed, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, sorry."

"Don' talk ta yer food, ijit." The biggest of the three, the one that had been cooking (if it could be called that) hit his friend over the head with the ladle. "Are they's any more o' you sneakin' around where ya shouldn't?" The troll leered down at her and Billa shook her head violently.

"No. No sneaking. No more of me." Her mind was spinning in a hundred different directions and she didn't dare look to the trees to find Kili. She only prayed that he was running back to tell the others. Half of her wanted badly to be rescued. The other half hoped the dwarves stayed away. She didn't know what she would do if any of them got hurt because of her.

* * *

Fili followed his uncle with his head down. He knew he was in trouble, but wasn't sure what to do about it, or why Thorin was so angry. He'd only done what made the most sense. Bombur was mad at him, too, carrying his ax with a deep frown on his fat face. It wasn't until they caught up with Kili that the blond dwarf realized how mistaken he might have been. He could hear voices, deep troll voices, and a higher, breathless female voice.

_Billa!_

Oops.

He could hear them grunting at each other.

"Should we cook it?"

"'ardly more 'n a mouthful."

"Let's eat it raw!"

"Ya think we're barbarians? Maybe it'd make a nice pie."

"I'd really rather not, if it's all the same to you. Hobbits aren't very good in pies."

"Drop her!" Kili leapt out of the bushes, brandishing his sword convincingly, showing his teeth. His voice was forceful and insistent, in the manner of one overcompensating for the terror gripping him inside.

"You wot?" said the troll, who was currently dangling Billa upside down by one of her ankles. (Fortunately, after a while on the road, the hobbit had fashioned her skirt into a pair of makeshift trousers, and thus avoided a somewhat embarrassing display.)

"I said, '_drop her_'!" Kili repeated emphatically, more slowly this time.

The troll did comply, in a way. That is to say, he flung the halfling on Kili, who broke her fall, but was knocked backwards to the ground in the process. Fortunately, he was saved from his poor choice of words by the rest of the company, who charged into the clearing, led by Thorin.

The massive trolls, momentarily startled, were quite literally overwhelmed by the dwarves' assault, and could do little besides reel about clumsily, trying ineffectually to single out and crush this or that dwarf as this or that dwarf ran around slicing them about the knees.

Kili helped the hobbit up quickly, stepping in front of her. "Back into the bushes, Billa," he hissed over his shoulder. "We can handle this."

Billa hesitated for a fraction of a second. She was unarmed, untrained, and smaller than they were. She scrambled into the bushes and lay in hiding, watching the fight with her heart in her throat. She saw one of the trolls swing a club wildly at the back of Balin's white head, and couldn't help herself. She sprang out of hiding with a scream and wrapped herself around the troll's massive, grimy wrist. The troll, startled by this unexpected attack (which didn't seem to hurt it at all) defaulted on his swing and reared back instead, swinging Billa around and trying to shake her off. The hobbit closed her eyes, hanging on for dear life.

The troll pried her off and held her by her arms. Through some stroke of genius, one of his buddies grabbed her legs and pulled until she screamed in pain. Silence fell over the clearing almost immediately.

"Drop your weapons!" roared the troll holding her feet.

Thorin froze mid-swing, as did the rest of the company. The trolls stepped back, holding the halfling up, threatening to rip her apart.

A momentary debate raged within Thorin. Part of him said, "Serves her right." If he surrendered, they could all be killed. Another part reminded him it was his nephews' fault that she was in danger. In the end, it was an impulsive, desperate decision that saw him angrily letting his blade slip from his grasp. He didn't fully understand why; he knew only that he couldn't watch the defenseless little creature be torn limb from limb. Moreover, lurking at the back of his mind was a faint hope that Gandalf might yet return and get them out of this mess.

With a succession of thuds and metallic clanks, the rest of the company's weaponry clattered to the ground.

A moment later, Thorin found himself being picked up and shoved into a large, burlap sack, which was subsequently cinched tightly closed and dropped into a pile of other wriggling, grunting, dwarf-filled sacks. This was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him, he decided. If he survived this, no one would hear of it. _No one._

"These ain't 'obbits," announced one of the trolls suddenly, as though he had just had a revelation. "These is dwarves!"

"Of course they's dwarves," said the one with the ladle, hitting his companion over the head with it again. "Don't be stupid."

Billa was shoved into a sack like the others, but being so much smaller, she disappeared into it entirely. With shaking hands, she picked at a hole in the burlap. It took a couple of minutes, but the trolls were arguing again, this time over how to cook the dwarves. Roast them. Boil them. Eat them raw (which in this case, seemed to mean "alive"). Sit on them and squash them into jelly.

Billa felt like she was going to be sick as she squirmed out of the sack that held her. She was amazed when she made it out into the trees without being seen, but stopped there. The others were still trapped. What to do, what to do.

"This's takin' too long!" grumbled one of the trolls, and picked up the largest sack, which had to hold Bombur.

Billa panicked. "Don't eat him!" she squeaked, her words nearly lost in the growling of the troll's stomach.

"Eh?" He looked at one of his companions with a puzzled expression. "Wot'd you say?"

Billa's brain was working overtime and buzzed through a hundred different ideas before landing on one, inspired by the puzzled look on the troll's face.

"What if it 'as worms?" she grunted, in her best imitation of a troll's voice, which wasn't very good, but it seemed to work well enough. The troll made a disgusted face and dropped Bombur on top of the pile of dwarves, who groaned under his weight.

"We has ta cook 'em, then," snarled the smallest, who looked rather put out by the idea. "I still says we oughta sit on 'em. We ain't 'ad good jelly in ages."

"Le's roast a couple an' eat 'em now," grunted the largest.

"But if they's still squirmin'," growled Billa hastily, "they don' cook right. Gotta let 'em sit a while."

"Shut up, Tom," roared the one with the ladle, swinging it at his friend's head. "I'm the cook, an' I says what we does wif 'em!"

"Hey! We don't have worms!" Kili whinnied indignantly from inside his sack, apparently having just realized the trolls' unintended insult.

The trolls turned at this. "Shut yer cake hole!" grunted one, taking a warning step toward the group of sacks.

"Well, we _don't_," Kili insisted, more politely this time.

Thorin sighed imploringly and shook his head. Then he kicked his nephew through the burlap. Hard.

"Ow," said Kili offendedly before finally taking the meaning of the kick. "Ohhhhhh... No, no, my mistake! We don't have worms. We have... PARASITES!"

The others joined in, all arguing about who had bigger, more impressive parasites.

"I have nits!" Gloin added.

The trolls looked at the sacks, visibly disgusted. "Ugh," said the one with the ladle. "We'll have to cook 'em twice as long now."

There followed a rowdy argument about how they would cook the dwarves, which culminated in a brawl between the two larger trolls. They very nearly rolled onto the dwarves and solved their own problem. After much scuffling, the two agreed that they would roast half of them now, and make soup out of the other half later. They were just choosing which ones to roast, when Billa, who was hiding in the trees at the opposite end of the clearing, made another attempt at distracting them.

"I was 'opin'," she grunted, "we'd make a pie out of 'em." This, to her delight, nearly started another fight. Not so much to her delight, one of them seemed to realize that if he hadn't said it, and his friend hadn't said it, and the third troll was busy picking his nose, then someone else must have spoken.

"Oi! 'Ooh said that?"


	5. Chapter V - Early Dawn

_Five_

"Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!" a voice thundered from above. The trolls, quite surprised by this, looked up to see who had spoken, and just then, the sun crested the hill, flooding the dell with light. The trolls hissed and tried to shield their eyes. One turned to point accusingly at the dwarves, but each of the three were turned to stone.

Billa edged into the clearing and looked at the trolls cautiously before picking her way nimbly past them to help the dwarves out of their sacks. As she pulled Kili to his feet, she gave him an apologetic smile. As easy as it would have been to lay the blame on him and his brother, she knew that if she'd just done as she'd said she would, they wouldn't have gotten into this mess.

With Gandalf's help, soon all the dwarves were free, though several had fresh bruises from being tossed around.

Thorin accosted Gandalf, glad the old wizard had returned, but nonetheless quite determined to chastise him for waiting so long to do so.

"And that's what happens when you run off. I told you to keep an eye on the burglar. She got herself snatched up by those trolls and nearly killed. Almost earned the rest of the Company a nasty fate, too."

Gandalf looked altogether too pleased with himself, and Thorin deeply disliked it.

"I returned precisely when I was needed, Thorin. And your burglar may have gotten you all into trouble, but she also saved your lives. Wasn't that Billa impersonating the trolls from the bushes?"

Thorin was surprised. "That was the halfling? I… I thought that was you." He snorted dismissively, turning his back. "The resemblance was so wretched, it's a wonder they were fooled at all."

"These trolls must have come down from the Ettenmoors," said the wizard, rapping his twisted staff on the one still clutching its ladle. "And since they couldn't have moved in daylight-"

"They must have a cave nearby," Thorin interposed. "Come on," he urged the others, who were still, apparently, recovering from the trauma they'd incurred at the prospect of being killed and eaten in decidedly unpleasant ways. "Spread out. Look for their lair."

It was Ori that found the cave, though he looked far less than eager to enter the dark hole. "What if there's more of 'em in there?" he asked in a quavering voice. Dwalin snorted derisively.

"Did you see the way they were fighting? If there were any more, they're probably long dead. Come on."

The younger dwarves seemed very impressed by the hoard the trolls had collected, the older distinctly unimpressed, and the wizard watched pensively. Billa lurked near the entrance, the combination of smells and bones on the floor making her feel sick to her stomach. She didn't catch a lot of what went on, but when Thorin and Gandalf came out, they were carrying long, dusty-looking swords. She was surprised when the Wizard pushed a small, sheathed blade into her hands and smiled at her. Fili saw her new weapon and laughed.

"You're the worst fighter I've ever seen. And that's saying something." The blond dwarf grinned. "At least with that, you'll have a sharp thing to swing at them."

"Right, 'cause that's intelligent," chuckled Gloin, rolling his eyes. "Give the one who can't tell up from down in a fight something that she can poke her eye out with."

Thorin silenced Gloin with a look. "It's time she had a means of defending herself." He wasn't entirely certain it would help, but it couldn't hurt. He'd instruct one of his nephews to give her a lesson or two when next they made camp.

He turned away, strapping the scabbard of the elven blade he'd found in the cave across his back. It was a heavy thing, much longer than the longswords he was used to bearing, but the wizard seemed to believe it was a blade of great renown, and would prove a boon in a fight.

Several of the other dwarves had packed some of the loose gold in the cave into chests and were busily burying them with the spades they'd brought. Only Mahal knew if they'd ever return for them, but at least they'd be kept safe until then. Thorin had to shake his head a little at the foolishness of it all. If they succeeded in this quest, even five chests full of gold - enough to serve the average person several lifetimes - would be nothing compared with the wealth they'd have in Erebor. If they failed... they'd be in a place where precious metals had no worth.

He watched as the others began to gather up what spoil they intended to carry along, mostly some tools and a few curiosities. They were ready to move on. Well, most of them were. Kili was poking Fili in the ribs with a silver fork he'd found, giggling like it was the funniest thing he'd ever done. Thorin exchanged a glance with Dwalin, who seemed equally mystified by Kili's childishness.

The dark-haired dwarf shrugged. "Alright, let's mo-" He was cut off by a loud, echoing howl. It was deeper and heavier than a wolf's keening, but just as chilling. And close. Very close. "Wargs!" Thorin bellowed, drawing his new blade with his right hand. With his other, he grabbed the collar of Billa's jacket and pulled her behind him, facing the tree-studded hillside from whence the howl had risen.

Billa let out a strangled sort of squeak. She found herself with her back against Thorin's, his hulking presence a comfort in spite of the sound of heavy pawsteps pounding toward them. Just how big were these things? They sounded like they were as big as bears!

The dwarves seemed to be in some sort of organized chaos. She recognized some of it from the fight with the trolls. Well, with how well it had worked against them, she could only imagine- then the first warg came into view. "Size of a bear" seemed a fit descriptor, and when it saw them, it stopped. It was only then that she saw the orc sitting on its back. She'd never seen anything so ugly. Even the cave trolls had been prettier.

As the nasty creature lifted a twisted horn to its lips, an arrow seemed to sprout from its neck. With a gurgling cry, it slid off the warg's back, and the wolf-thing, now free of its restraint, lunged forward with a bloodthirsty howl. The fight was a blur. There were four of them, and wargs, apparently, didn't die easily. At one point, she was trapped against an enormous furry corpse by Dwalin, who was trying to protect Thorin, who was trying to protect Kili, who was trying to protect Thorin, who was being protected by Fili- it was hard to follow.

She cowered against the still-warm corpse, holding her sword in front of her as though that would deter any more of the beasts from coming at her. Like so many untrained fighters, however, she believed herself to be safe from a rear attack. She felt the hot breath before the teeth fastened on her shoulder. Billa screamed as she was hauled into the air for the second time in so many hours, then tossed like a rag doll.

She collided with Gloin, who nearly beheaded her. As they both sprawled, the warg that had thrown her pounced on the pair of them, landing heavily on top of Billa's legs. Something cracked and try as she might, she couldn't scream again. The wind had left her lungs and breathing in seemed as impossible as flying. Gloin reached past her, grabbed his ax and swung it powerfully into the warg's skull. It squealed and reared away, already dying.


	6. Chapter VI - Desperate Flight

_Six_

Thorin finished off the last warg by practically sheathing his blade in its chest. After it had plunged landward, writhing in its death throes, he levered himself against it and withdrew the sword. Only then did he turn and realize what had happened. His mouth fell open slightly in unchecked horror, the garnet blade dropping from his hand.

"Was no one watching her?!" he demanded through ragged breath, rushing over to the fallen halfling. "No one?" Oin knelt at her side, looking somewhat stricken, reaching for his kit. The others gathered around, murmuring. Several appeared distinctly guilty, most noticeably Fili, Kili, and Bombur. Gandalf looked on, concerned, but content to leave Oin to his work.

"What happened, Miss Baggins?" the healer asked, evidently trying to determine if she was in shock. He glanced at her leg, her bleeding shoulder, shaking his head gravely.

Thorin, mastering his alarm and frustration, turned his mind to the safety of the Company. "These were scouts," he said. "They've come in advance of an orc pack. You'll have to work fast, Oin. We can't linger here."

Billa found her lungs again and sucked in a ragged gasp as Oin gently felt her leg, determining how bad the break was. For a moment or two, she just panted, her color fading from terror-white to sickly grey as pain started to register properly in her stunned brain. Gloin shuffled to the side, muttering something about keeping an eye out for flying hobbit-lasses next time.

"A wolf," she ground out between clenched teeth, "the size of a BEAR just broke my leg." Billa sounded almost incredulous, if such could be believed. Resisting the urge to touch the leg that hurt, she folded her arms over her stomach, and gasped again. Her shoulder was very hot and... wet... "It _bit_ me." This time the incredulity couldn't be missed.

Fili laughed halfheartedly. "Aye, that's what they do, isn't it?" He rubbed the hilts of his swords, unable to completely swallow the guilt that was gnawing at him. If it weren't for him and Kili, then they would have been safe at camp, rather than getting the poor lass taken by trolls and eaten by wargs. Glancing at his brother, he nudged him and nodded back toward camp.

"We'll need our things, won't we? Might even be able to scavenge a couple ponies, if we're lucky."

* * *

They weren't lucky. The ponies had scattered. Wise beasts, but dreadfully inconvenient. By the time they and the others that had been sent with them returned, Oin had Billa's leg set and splinted, and it looked as though the halfling had been overcome with pain. At least, if she was conscious, it was only barely.

"I can carry her," Fili offered hopefully. He wanted to make up for not defending her when he should have.

Thorin nodded. "You and Kili will take turns. We've a ways to go before we'll be safe to rest again." He leveled a stern gaze on Fili, and his voice was a low, admonishing growl.

"Carry her gently. She's my burglar, not a bag of supplies." He hoped Billa hadn't heard. Certainly not the _my_ part, anyway. That wasn't what he'd meant to say at all, implying he had some sort of claim on her. He turned away. "We move! Fast as we can, no falling behind."

Gandalf led the way out of the trees onto a tawny plain studded with occasional pines, and the distant mountains rose into view, blue as sapphires. "Hurry!"

Kili nudged his brother's shoulder as they ran, the halfling bumping up and down on the blonde dwarf's back. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Fili puffed, his legs hardly more than a constant burning feeling that propelled him along over the ground. Thank Mahal it was mostly flat. The blonde flashed his brother a tight smile. "Next copse, we can switch off and I'll watch your back." It wasn't the extra weight that made running hard. It was the fact that he had to run in longer strides as he tried not to jostle the hobbit's broken leg. And since she was unconscious, she couldn't help him at all, and he was constantly adjusting his grip on the blanket Oin had settled her in, like an impromptu hammock.

Before they'd reached the next copse, though, there was another howl. Then two, then three. A chorus of warg-voices were raised behind them, much closer than any of them were comfortable with. "Forget switching, Brother," Fili growled. "You just make sure none of them get close enough to get to her."

Kili produced an odd, hesitant noise, turning back to catch sight of the beasts bearing down on them. "We'll never make it," he whispered between gasps for breath. He may have been carrying his brother's pack as well as his own, but Billa was heavier than both packs put together. An odd thought, considering she was so tiny.

Thorin was on Gandalf's heels, but when he noticed the proximity of the pack, he slowed his pace and fell to the back of the Company. There were three riderless wargs approaching at a fast lope, baying at intervals as the scent of the dwarves grew stronger in their nostrils. They were only a few minutes behind and gaining rapidly. The rest of the pack was further behind, faint black blotches against the distant tree-line.

The plain was dotted with odd rock formations now, here and there with no rhyme or reason, and the Company rounded them as necessary, Gandalf shouting "Hurry!" again and again.

Thorin paused and nodded at Kili. "Your bow," he panted. Kili stopped, leaning over, heaving. When he'd had a few seconds to catch his breath, he unsheathed his bow, nocked an arrow, aimed... the foremost warg yelped, tumbling end over end to rest in a shuddering heap in the yellow grass. The others came on more quickly, rapidly closing the gap.

Kili fired another arrow and missed. His hands were shaking now, and he could barely hold them steady enough to aim well. The rest of the Company had passed one of the rock formations and were currently out of sight. Thorin drew his elven blade, poised with its dragon-tooth haft at his right ear. Kili fired again, more successful this time, but not a clean kill like the first arrow had been.

The wargs were upon them. Thorin dispatched the one that selected him, dodging out of its path and then lopping off its head as it passed. When he'd looked toward Kili again, his warg was mortally wounded, snarling in its final throes. Thorin nodded, and the two turned to catch up with the rest of the group.

Just as they'd rejoined them, more howls rent the air, and Gandalf sent his gaze imploringly skyward. "They're close. Hurry!"

Fili was gasping desperately for breath, doubled over and supporting Billa with his shoulders as they sheltered behind the rocks for a moment. "Kili," he wheezed, "you'll have to take her for a bit. I can't keep up."

"No time," growled Dwalin, and pushed them on as the wizard led the way. Fili was struggling, but Dwalin, an ax in either hand, was staying with them now. He'd sworn to protect Thorin and his kin, even if his kin _were_ stupid.

"Quick!" called Gandalf, pointing toward a rocky outcropping a half-mile ahead. "We can still make it."

No one replied, but they were all thinking that the chances of them actually making it to the outcropping were slim to none. It was defensible, though, and they were all well-armed.

The wargs were upon them before long. While Dwalin, Kili, and Gloin held the rear, the others sprinted the last few lengths to the outcropping, where Gandalf was calling for them to go down, down, down inside. The opening was small, but one at a time, they slid through into the sandy cave within.

A warg lunged for Gloin's leg and missed, caught Kili's ankle on its way past and knocked him flat just before getting the majority of its neck severed by Dwalin.

"On your feet!" he bellowed, giving Kili a shove. "Go! NOW!"

Miraculously, the Company made it intact into the cleft in the rock. The snarling of the wargs and the guttural speech of the orcs intensified as the pack regrouped and approached the entrance, but their advance was interrupted. A loud horn call, followed by the muted thundering of horses' hooves and the whizzing of arrows. There was a passage leading between the rocks, narrow, but seeming to continue for a considerable distance.

"This way," urged Gandalf, motioning with his staff. Thorin nodded at the questioning glances from the rest of the Company, and satisfied, they all turned and followed the wizard, leaving the sounds of deadly scuffling behind. Thorin brought up the rear, directly behind Fili. The young dwarf was gasping, trembling. He looked as though he'd collapse if he went on much further.

"Here, Fili," Thorin said, patting the blond's shoulder. "I'll take her from here." As much as he'd theretofore avoided physical contact with the halfling - on principal, perhaps - he saw he had little choice now.

Fili's arms were shaking as he handed Billa over with a grateful look. The halfling seemed to be partially conscious, because as Thorin took her, she made soft whimpering sounds, sounds of a female in pain. Gandalf led them along the narrow path, no longer urging them to hurry, but keeping up a brisk pace. Fili kept by his brother, now noticing that Kili was limping. Taking his bag back, he apologized silently for not being at his side to defend him, the way he always had been.

The cleft suddenly opened into a narrow valley, which terminated into a much larger one, filled with flourishing trees and a distinctly Elvish-looking structure situated at the head of the beautiful, cascading waterfall.

Gandalf's tone carried distinct satisfaction. "Welcome to Rivendell."


	7. Chapter VII - House of Healing

_A/N: Thanks, everyone, for your continued readership! Just a quick note, because we anticipate a few of you will want to know why Estel is referred to as an "elfling" when he's actually human. Elrond concealed the fact of his noble heritage and lineage from young Aragorn until he was 20, to protect him, so it seems no unfair extrapolation to imagine he might have kept the fact that he was human from him during his younger years, as well. Billa, Fili, and Kili would have no reason to assume he was anything other than an elfling, either. I hope this is helpful. Thanks again, and we hope you enjoy this chapter!_

_Seven_

Thorin stepped out onto the viewpoint behind the others, and there was a look very close to cold, shocked fury in his eyes as he caught sight of the valley below with its distinctly elven architecture. Stone edifices, gazebos, bridges, courtyards, and pathways hovered over the river, framed by the dozen or so waterfalls glistening white down the surrounding cliff faces. Billa was still limp in the dwarf's arms, her head leaning into his shoulder, mouth slightly open.

Thorin rounded on the smug-looking wizard. "_You_! You've planned this from the beginning. Taking refuge with our enemy!"

"Lord Elrond is not your enemy, Thorin." Gandalf's faintly triumphant smile didn't fade, but his tone was grave. "This is a House of Healing, open to all who are pure of heart and need assistance; which, I believe, includes you."

"You ask me to trust them?" Thorin gestured sharply at the valley below with a hand, mindful of not jarring the unconscious halfling. "_Them_? The very people who promised us friendship, then betrayed my father and grandfather? Do you take me for a fool, Wizard?"

"No, Thorin, I take you for an intelligent leader of your people. Intelligent enough to know that with an injured burglar, you won't be getting very far." Gandalf nodded to Billa, who seemed to be trying to open her eyes. "Your archer is injured as well. It would behoove you to take what rest and assistance Lord Elrond can offer. Indeed, he knows more of map-making and runes than I do. Perhaps he can unlock the secrets of your father's map."

A compelling argument, to be sure. Billa shifted slightly in Thorin's arms, and he glanced down at her. Garnet was seeping through her bandages now, and as skilled as Oin was, Thorin couldn't bring himself to trust that the old healer could save her leg. He looked back up at the wizard again. There was a war waging within between a lifetime of bitterness and nigh-desperation. Finally with a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Very well. We'll do this your way, Gandalf. And be it upon your pointed hat what consequences befall us!"

Gandalf nodded, seeming satisfied with this acquiescence. He led the Company down to the valley floor and along one of the clear, winding paths. There was a slender elf in rich clothes waiting for them on the stairs, looking a touch uneasy as he sized up the party of dwarves that had straggled up to his perch.

"Please tell Lord Elrond that he has visitors," said Gandalf with a bow. The elf inclined his head gracefully to them, but frowned apologetically.

"My Lord Elrond is away at the moment." He glanced nervously at Thorin, and the dwarf realized he must have been unintentionally glowering at him. He made an effort to relax his face, readjusting his grip on the halfling.

"Not here?" Gandalf asked, looking puzzled. "Where is-"

He was answered mid-sentence by the same clear, mellow horncall they'd heard earlier, trailed by the sharp clip-clopping of hooves on the stone pathway over which the Company had just come.

The dwarves whirled around, instinctively forming an outward facing circle around Ori and Thorin. No less than fifteen equestrians in full, gleaming armor, starry banners flowing out behind them in the wind of their speed. At their head rode a dark-haired elf with a keen, dark gaze, a scimitar at his side and a long, double-pronged spear in his left hand.

"Gandalf!" he exulted, smiling warmly. The dwarves relaxed a little, recognizing they were in no danger. The elf - who could have been none other than Lord Elrond himself - dismounted gracefully, embracing the wizard. "What a pleasant surprise." He glanced curiously at the edgy dwarves, arching an eyebrow. "Are they with you, or are you with them?"

Gandalf chuckled, his smile easier now that his old friend was here. "A little of both, I'm afraid. This is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, and his Company, who are in need of your assistance. Thorin, may I introduce Elrond, Lord of Imladris, your host. And a more gracious host you will not find anywhere else in Middle-Earth."

Thorin dipped his head slightly to the dark-haired elf, somewhat at a loss. "I'm... honored," he said finally, stepping out from among the others.

Billa stirred again, and this time she managed to open her eyes slightly. She made a soft, pained sound, not unlike a whimper, and passed out once more. The weight of her own leg seemed to strain the break against the splint, and as her blood soaked the bandage, it started to trickle over her exposed ankle and into her curly foot-hair.

Elrond noticed the wounded halfling in the dwarf's arms, and his brow creased with puzzlement and concern. He turned a questioning glance on the wizard.

"We were caught unawares by an orc pack," explained Gandalf, his eyes darkening with worry as he took the time to observe the extent of the halfling's injuries. Her shoulder was damp with blood and her leg seemed to be bent at an awkward angle, in spite of the helpful splint it was bound to. "Two were injured. This one is a halfling, one of the Shirefolk." He gave Elrond a look that said he would explain further once the need wasn't quite so urgent.

Elrond nodded, wasting no more time.

"Hurry, bring her up the steps." He turned, indicating that Thorin should follow. "I have a room set aside for healing; I'll tend her immediately."

Thorin glanced at Gandalf a moment, his eyes echoing his final words before they'd come down into the valley. He would trust the wizard on this, though it might mean their ruin.

Kili limped up the steps after the others, forcing back a grimace as he put a bit too much weight on his wounded ankle. These steps were higher than the ones the dwarves were used to, not dramatically so, but enough to annoy.

A few minutes later, Billa and Kili had been settled into beds at opposite ends of a circular, many-windowed room. Kili watched as the elf lord knelt at the halfling's side; he seemed to be chanting in his own tongue while he worked, cleaning the wound, resetting it, enclosing dried herbs between layers of the binding. He'd given Billa a tea of sorts before beginning that had relaxed her almost to the point of sleep, it seemed, and even now, there was no trace of pain or distress on her pale features.

Thorin watched silently, standing at the end of the bed. He would not leave her until he was certain this elf meant her no harm. It seemed a silly thought, even to his embittered mind, that the kindly Elrond would make such a pretense of concern, go to such efforts to gain Thorin's confidence, only to kill Billa once he'd lowered his guard, but still... he couldn't bring himself to leave her side just yet.

* * *

When Billa regained consciousness, nearly two full days had passed. Her sleep had done her no harm, and her shoulder was mending well, her leg straightened and healing under layers of clean, protective bandaging. Blinking bemusedly at unfamiliar surroundings, the hobbit tried to make sense of what her brain was telling her. She remembered being in immense pain, and had a vague impression of being carried. Then... soft voices, and the smell of good things to eat. Now, it seemed she was rather alone in a large, airy room that she didn't recognize at all. As she tried to sit up, a familiar voice called out gladly.

"Miss Boggins!" Fili's grinning face came into view not long afterward, and she wondered if he would ever tire of calling her out of her name. Secretly, she suspected he did it just to annoy her.

"What... Fili, where are we?" She tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but her shoulder protested with a sharp stab of pain, and she eased herself back onto the pillows with a wince.

"The House of Elrond, I gather, in Rivendell. Uncle's not happy about it, though."

"What are you doing in here? You're not hurt, are you?" This was obviously some sort of infirmary. She could see other beds, at least.

"No, but Kili's got a bum ankle, and I decided to grace him with my presence like the loving and devoted brother I- " Fili whipped around and grabbed a pillow that had just hit the back of his head, still grinning. Billa could now see the dark-haired archer in a bed across from her, though not well, considering she couldn't sit up properly at the moment.

Kili shot up in bed, grinning. "Ankle or not, brother mine, I'll make you behave." They'd been in the infirmary for too long, and while Kili was under no prohibition from leaving, Thorin had insisted he stay, if only to keep the burglar company.

"So Billa, have you met any elves before, or is this your first time?"

Fili helped her sit up and arranged her pillows so she could lean against them and see Kili better. The blond was grinning, happy to see their burglar alert and coherent again. No harm done. Well, no permanent harm.

"Um, well, I used to see elves passing through the Shire. Some of them would stop and speak with me if I was near enough, but most just sort of... _glided_ through." Billa shrugged, looking mildly bemused. "They seemed so solemn, it was hard to tell if they wanted to speak at all."

Kili nodded. "That's elves for you. I'd never met any before now. Not bad folk, actually. Not like Uncle's had us believing all this time." He thought a minute. "Oh. Their food leaves something to be desired, though. Too much green. Far too much."

While he was still speaking, he noticed a little dark shape peering around the frame of one of the open windows, just barely visible beyond the diaphanous curtain.

"Hello?" Kili said, hesitantly.

The boy leaned around the curtain, holding the wafting fabric with one hand as he looked at the people in the infirmary with large grey eyes. He seemed to be an elf-child, with fine, sharp features that indicated a recent growth-spurt. A mop of dark hair fell in gentle waves around his shoulders as he watched the strangers, excitement growing in his expression.

"You're dwarves," he said finally, as though announcing an amazing discovery.

Billa looked at the child and resisted the urge to correct him. Let him think her a dwarf if he liked. He'd discover his error sooner or later. "Who are you?"

"I'm Estel. Who're you?"

"Billa Baggins."

"That's a funny name."

"So's 'Estel.' "

"Is not!"

Kili scooted forward a little to the edge of his bed, taking pains not to aggravate his bandaged ankle. "Oh, please," he said, chuckling, "_both _your names are funny." The grey-eyed child turned to regard him, and he smiled. "I'm Kili, and this is my brother, Fili." Lifting a hand to the side of his mouth, he leaned forward confidentially. "Be wary of him," he whispered. "He's a mischief maker, that one."

Estel eyed Kili and Fili, clearly considering this. "You're not _twins_, are you?" he asked suspiciously, as though this were something one ought to be afraid of.

Kili shook his head forcefully. "What would make you think that? We don't look alike at all. Although," he glanced at his brother knowingly, "Uncle does manage to get our names mixed up often enough; one would think we did."

Estel relaxed notably, looking relieved. He stepped into the infirmary, releasing the suffocating curtain at last. "My brothers are twins," he explained. "_The_ Twins. They're always getting me in trouble." Bounding across the space between them, he jumped onto Kili's bed, jostling him cheerfully. "What's it like to be a dwarf?"

Kili laughed. "I wouldn't know. I've never been anything different. Could _you_ describe what it's like to be an elf?" He studied the young face curiously, wondering if all elflings were as inquisitive as this one.

After a moment of thought, the boy shook his head, dark locks swinging around his face. "No. Maybe it's nicer to be an elf than to be a dwarf. We don't live in holes underground."

Billa looked slightly affronted. "What's wrong with living in a hole?"

"To be completely fair, Estel, _we_," Kili gestured between himself and Fili, "don't live in a hole. We live in great halls of stone beneath the earth. Billa here lives in a hole, though, so you can ask her about it." He grinned at the halfling; if it weren't so easy to get a rise out of her, teasing wouldn't have been nearly as fun.

Billa scowled at him. "It's not a 'hole,' it's a _smial_, thank you very much." She sounded more annoyed than actually angry. She and Kili had had this discussion many times already. "And very well-kept, until you lot tramped in with your mud and your silly quest." Estel was immediately distracted, excitement gleaming in his bright eyes.

"A quest? Like a real-live quest, like the ones in the stories?" He bounced a little on the bed, smiling hopefully.

Kili looked puzzled. "What other kinds of quests are there? Do elves go out on play quests? _Pretend_ they have kingdoms to reclaim, dragons to slay?" He wondered what kind of stories Estel had been reading. Certainly not about dwarves, if his knowledge of them was anything to go by.

Estel gave Kili a "don't you know anything?" look and crossed his arms. "I'm too _young_ to go on quests," he explained, as though the dwarf were a bit slow. "Ada says that I'll be questing almost constantly once I'm grown, but he says I'll be doing _lots_ of things once I'm grown." The boy looked somewhat troubled, as though the idea of all those things he was supposed to be doing as an adult was intimidating.

Billa watched the boy, softening as he did little boy things and made little boy faces. It seemed that no matter what race they were born into, little boys were little boys. It was comforting to know that some realities didn't change when she left the Shire. How long ago had it been? She didn't know, and didn't care to remember.


	8. Chapter VIII - Muddled Affairs

_Eight_

"How old are you, Estel?" Billa asked curiously. Did elf-children age like Men, or like Hobbits, or like Dwarves?

"Ten," he said proudly, no longer troubled by thoughts of the future. The future, it seemed, had wafted out the window with the breeze. "Ada says that I'm old enough to start training with a _real_ sword now."

"Indeed?" said Elrond, stepping into the open doorway. "I seem to recall saying that your training with real weapons was to be delayed another six months because of that stunt you pulled last week." His hands emerged from his ample sleeves, and he leaned over Billa's bedside again. "Let's have a look at your leg, shall we?"

Kili's eyes brightened with curiosity. "So," he whispered in Estel's ear, "just what kind of stunt did you pull? A good one, I hope."

Estel looked rather grumpy. "I didn't _do_ anything," he told Kili with a pout. "It was Elrohir. I keep telling him, but he won't listen."

Billa eyed the newcomer nervously. He seemed very... there was a word for it, but it wasn't coming to mind. Important. Dignified. Majestic. Whatever. He seemed to be in charge of something. He reminded her of Thorin, in some ways. "How long have I been here?" she asked softly, looking worried at the thought. Thorin. If they were delayed, then Thorin would be upset. And it would be her fault. They might even leave her behind. Then what?

"Two days, Miss Baggins," said Elrond, carefully feeling along the halfling's bound leg. It seemed to be responding well to his ministrations.

Billa winced, though not because of any physical pain. "And... how long will it be before I can walk again?" She didn't like the expression on his face. The same expression that Healer Mags had when she told Hamwise that he'd not be able to work in the garden until after his arm healed. Poor fellow had been down in the mouth for the whole two weeks of his recovery.

"No more than a week," said Elrond, "if you continue to rest as ordered and don't try to walk on it _before_ then." He unwound several layers of the binding and refreshed the dried herbs from a special pouch he kept in a cupboard in the nearby wall. "Athelas," he said, holding up a faded green sprig. "We who practice medicine still have yet to find anything that works so well as the 'healing leaf.' "

"Athelas," Billa repeated quietly, taking the leaf between her fingers. Billa, like all hobbits, had a deep love of green and growing things. If there was more she could learn from Elrond about the herbs and things he used for healing, she would learn it- if he was willing to teach her.

The elf lord finished with what he was doing, urged Fili to ensure she was drinking often of the tea in the bedside carafe he'd brought that morning, and turned to leave.

"Don't let my son pester you overly much," he said, nodding at Estel from the doorway. "He's unceasingly curious about the outside world, and would likely never tire of hearing stories of the lands beyond our borders." Smiling faintly, the elf lord departed.

Murmuring her thanks, Billa watched him go, still holding the leaf gently. The way it smelled, tasted, felt, and looked- she would make sure she remembered.

"So," said Kili, feeling at ease again now that Elrond had gone, "what did Elrohir do that he blamed you for? Because Fili and me... we're experts in this area. We might be able to help you get him back." He winked at his brother.

Estel seemed surprised that this dwarf was actually choosing to believe him. "Well... he and Elladan sort of... they took some berries and made a lot of dye, and drew some stuff on one of the walkways. Ada was really angry about it. Said it was a childish thing to do, and his sons knew better."

"Berries, eh?" Kili was intrigued. "Well, Fili and I will show _them_ a thing or two." Anticipating protest, he held up a hand. "Don't worry; we'll take all the blame for it. We're not staying here long. How much trouble can we get into?" He leaned toward Fili, grinning roguishly. "What say we pay those fiendish twins a visit?"

Estel relaxed slightly, and even smiled, bouncing gently on the bed. "Really? You'd do that?"

Fili poured Billa some tea and pressed it into her hands before returning to his brother's bed with a grin. "For plaguing our poor young friend? Indubitably." The blond winked at Estel. "We've been dying to try out a couple things that would have gotten us beheaded in Ered Luin anyway. And what our dear mother doesn't know can't get us killed."

Kili slid off the bed, supporting himself with a staff of twisted pine the elves had given him earlier. He glanced at Billa semi-apologetically. "Sorry you can't tag along to see the fun. Healer's orders and all. Besides," he grinned, "could be dangerous. We'll come back later and tell you all about it."

As the three went, laughing, out the door, they quite literally ran into Thorin. The dwarf wasn't very amused by their clumsiness, and as he scanned their sorry faces, he knew at once something was up.

"What's the meaning of this? Fili? Where are you off to in such a rush?"

Fili glanced into his uncle's face, looking distinctly guilty. "We were just going to explore the valley," he lied, shooting a look at his brother. "Since there are such nice paths, you know... and Estel here was going to show us around, weren't you?" He clapped the boy on the shoulder, and the elfling grinned brightly.

"Yes sir! And they were gonna tell me all about orcs and wargs and goblins!" He sounded a bit too excited about those.

"Is that so?" Thorin asked, raising his dark eyebrows. He'd known the brothers long enough to recognize when they were trying to hoodwink him. "Well, young Estel," he said, shifting his gaze to the nervous, grey-eyed boy, "take care the company you keep. These two are as dangerous as orcs. And twice as annoying."

He smiled faintly, brushing past them. Whatever they were up to, it was likely nothing that would be of any consequence to him.

Fili traded a glance with Kili, then looked down at Estel.

"As dangerous as orcs?" the boy asked, regarding them with a new sort of respect. Fili giggled, letting off a bit of tension as he stepped hastily away from the infirmary.

"Trust Uncle to insult us with a compliment. Come on." Keeping his pace at least somewhat moderated for Kili's sake, the blond hooked his thumbs around his leather belt. "So... what sort of revenge shall we make for our little friend, hm?"

"I was thinking something nasty, something really unpleasant," said Kili, making a great show of rubbing his hands together. "Tonight after an exhausting day of strutting around with their noses in the air, those twins'll trudge into their chambers, half-asleep, and tuck in. That's when it'll hit them. Earlier, we'll have dumped a bucket of honey at the foot of their beds, beneath the sheets. And then their feet will be all sticky and they'll jump out of bed screaming and we'll be there to witness it." He hesitated a moment. "I'm not entirely sure _how_ we'll be there, but we will be. Fool-proof, eh, Fili?"

Fili chewed the end of one of his braids thoughtfully. "Honey might be a bit hard to get ahold of without folk noticing." A moment's silence passed between them, and then he grinned, glancing down at Estel. "How clean are the ponds around here?" At first, the boy looked confused, then a look of malicious glee crossed his face.

"Ooh! Elladan will _hate_ this. Mud in their beds?"

"You're on the right track, kiddo. Why don't you fetch us a couple buckets, and we'll look for a good scummy puddle somewhere?" Fili watched Estel bounce away and grinned at his brother. "This'll be fun."

He returned with two buckets he'd filched from the garden shed and the trio headed to the pond, where they collected some of the cleanest mud the two brothers had ever seen. Ah, well. Mud was mud. Estel led them to a wizened-looking oak beneath the verandah of the Twins' chambers, assuring Fili and Kili that they wouldn't be in there, as they generally spent their days training or riding about the valley.

"Fili, you and Estel go up first," Kili whispered. "Then lower the rope down and I'll send the buckets up."

Fili scrambled up the gnarled trunk, eagerness lending him strength where he lacked skill. Estel didn't climb so much as he ran up the tree, pulling himself up hand over hand as though he were some sort of furless squirrel. Long before Fili reached the verandah, the boy was dancing impatiently on the wide stone rail.

"Come _on_," he called, bouncing on the spot.

Finally, Fili stood on the smooth stone, leaning against the rail as he braced himself against the weight of the buckets. It was the work of a moment to bring them up, though Fili had to admit that hauling Kili up the same way would be considerably harder.

"Lookout duty for you today, brother mine," he called with a grin.

"Hey!" Kili whisper-shouted. When he saw that his brother had no intention of bringing him up, he crossed his arms grumpily. Lookout duty wasn't nearly as interesting. Curses on his ankle. He leaned against the bole of the tree, scanning left and right. No one close enough to mark them as disguised as they were behind the thick foliage of the oak. He huffed to himself, imagining what terribly entertaining mischief he was missing out on inside.

Fili and Estel were snickering delightedly to each other as they scrambled back down the tree to join Kili.

"Estel had the idea to put an extra layer over the foot of the beds so the mud wouldn't soak through." The blond was near to bursting out in delighted giggles. "They won't know what's coming to 'em 'til it's too late!"

* * *

Entering the infirmary, Thorin nodded to the halfling sitting propped up against her pillows, approaching with hands clasped behind his back. He was still wearing his brigandine armor, despite their inarguably safe location, though he'd left his coat and fur mantle behind in the guest chambers. It was clear he'd washed, and his dark hair had been combed, the two four-stranded braids redone. "How do you find yourself, Miss Baggins?" The tone rested somewhere between familiar and business-like.

"Well, I generally start by opening my eyes. If that doesn't work, my hands are often very useful." Billa's dry tone was accompanied by a merry smile. Perhaps it was Fili and Kili rubbing off on her, but Thorin's formality struck her as amusing. Still holding that Athelas leaf, she rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger as she suppressed the anxiety gnawing at her gut. Were they going to leave her behind? Did Thorin know how long it would be before she could travel?

"You look well. Being clean suits you."

Thorin nodded again, his gaze now firmly fixed on one of the carven bedposts. "One week? Is that what the elf lord told you? After that, you'll be ready to depart?" He didn't mean to sound so impersonal, but he certainly hadn't come here to chat about his hygiene habits.

Billa cleared her throat, smile fading into nonexistence. "Yes... that's what he said." She hesitated a moment, inspecting the withered leaf in her hand. "I'm sorry to have delayed you." If she were the betting sort, she wouldn't have put her wager on Thorin waiting around in Rivendell for her to recover.

Thorin shrugged a little. "These things happen." It was his way of accepting the apology. He looked at her, finally, and his gaze was neither hard, nor gentle. It just... was. "I will be plain in saying I did not initially wish to stay here the week it will require for you to heal. Even now, I do so begrudgingly. But the wizard has insisted time and again that if I leave you behind, this venture will fail. I don't understand the confidence he places in you, but it's been said he's gifted with prescience, so I'll not dare go against him. Not on this point."

Billa thought about saying something about the confidence Gandalf put in her, but decided that there was nothing she could tell this bright-eyed dwarf that he hadn't already thought of. She met his blue gaze and, after a moment, nodded. "I'll do my best not to slow you any more than necessary." Thorin was a hard man, a distant and unfeeling leader, focused on his Quest and nothing more. There was a part of her that wanted to see him smile. That wanted to see him behave like a real person, instead of this stone-faced carving he put up in his place.

"When was the last time you laughed?" The question was asked on a whim. Billa wasn't really sure what made her say it out loud. Looking at Thorin as he was now, standing with boots planted in an infirmary, by a hobbit's sickbed, she felt sorry for him, and didn't know why.

Thorin tilted his head a little, caught off guard. What could she be getting at with that?

"I'm not overly prone to levity," he said, at last, "while my kingdom is yet unwon and a dragon defiles the halls of my ancestors. I will not indulge myself in mirth while the massacre of my people remains unavenged, Miss Baggins." His blue eyes were deep now, his gaze heavy, as if he could still see the destruction of Erebor vividly before him, playing out again and again. Laughter was not his way; the weight of an entire people's sorrow was ever present on his mind and heart.

There was unconcealed pity in Billa's gaze now. "I'm sorry." Though, whether she was sorry for his lack of levity or for the deaths of his people was a little vague. She truly did feel very sorry for him. What must life be like under that kind of weight? What could it be like to live a life where smiles and laughter were no more permissible than using a crowbar for mending socks? She wished there was something she could do, but had the distinct impression that any attempt to lighten his mood would go very much unappreciated.

Thorin stepped a little closer to the edge of the bed, putting his hand on the bedpost. As simple words as they were, the genuine sentiment behind them stirred him a little. He sighed, looking away again.

"I don't need your pity, Miss Baggins, as well meant as I'm sure it is. I need only for you to prepare yourself for what is to come." He lowered his gaze once more, thoughtfully. "I've been impressed by the way you've conducted yourself, barring that foolish incident with the trolls. I certainly never predicted you'd make it as far as you have.

"But in future, when we move into greater and greater danger, increasingly harried on all sides by those forces seeking to stop us, you will need to be stronger than ever. You'll need to keep up with the rest of my Company, fit in, become one of us, for all intents and purposes. We will not be able to make any special allowances for you as this journey wears on, however much my nephews may try through it all to ease your way. I want to make that clear. This Company is a chain, only as strong as its weakest link. I need you to be strong, Miss Baggins."

"Understood." There was nothing more to be said. Billa knew, deep in the secretest parts of her hobbitish insides, that Thorin wasn't warning her. He was putting his faith in her. This was no longer just his Quest- it was hers, too. And he knew it. It was gratifying to know that he acknowledged it.


	9. Chapter IX - Brotherly Love

_Nine_

Elrohir was _exhausted_, but satisfied. Nothing in the world felt better than breaking Ada's old records. Though, to be fair, it had taken years to be able to hit anything consistently while unbalanced on a galloping horse. His arm was satisfyingly sore.

Bursting into the chambers he shared with his brother, he pulled off his arm guards and flashed Elladan a tired grin.

"Tomorrow. Whaddya say? It's been too quiet in the Valley. About time we gave the Homely House a new mascot, don't you think?"

Elladan lifted an eyebrow dubiously. To an outsider, he would've been indistinguishable from his brother, but those who knew them well could tell them apart through a few subtle differences in their faces, and a few less than subtle differences in their personalities. Elrohir was more reckless and impulsive, while Elladan seemed to provide, more often than not, a much-needed voice of reason. No exception tonight.

"I don't know," he said. "Hasn't been that long since our _last_ prank. Ada might get suspicious. I was thinking something a little less obvious, something like…." He trailed off, eyelids drooping. "I'll sleep on it. Let you know what my brilliant mind concocts in the morning."

With that, he jumped, fully dressed, into bed, but didn't get under the covers yet.

"Snuff the lamps, would you?"

Elrohir rolled his eyes to the heavens.

"Paranoid," he taunted, but in no way that would imply real insult. Meandering over to the lamp, he dimmed it, kicked off his shoes, and slid into bed, not caring that he'd have to bathe in the morning.

Seconds later, he leapt out of bed again with a screech, floundering in his blankets before falling very ungracefully in a heap near the mirror.

"What in Arda-?!"

Elladan's startled cry rose almost simultaneously with his brother's, and he recoiled as though he'd been bitten, only just managing to right himself on the edge of the bed without tumbling off. Something cold, wet, and clumpy was caking his feet, and he rubbed them vigorously across the carpet, moaning in disgust. "What _is_ this?! Get the light, 'Ro, get the light!"

Elrohir made sounds of utter disgust as he stumbled across the gap between his bed and the lamp. Once the light was up, he could see that he'd left a trail of muddy footprints across the floor behind him. His blankets were a muddy, crumpled mess, and he could see more of the cold, wet glop peeking out from between his sheets. The elf stared at his bed, too shocked to come up with words for this atrocity. Someone had pranked _them_?

For lack of anything better to do, Elladan snatched up his now muddy pillow and hurled it across the room. "Gahhh!" After he'd had a moment to calm down again, he sank against the wall. "I'm going to _kill_ Estel for this."

Fili leaned against his brother, weak-kneed with silent laughter. They were under the verandah, and had heard the entirety of their victims' shocked squealing. Convulsing with gales of mirth he couldn't release, Fili nearly stuffed a fist in his mouth, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Kili wasn't as successful at stifling his laughter as his brother, and a loud snort that had been building for some time forced its way out. Fili clapped a hand over his mouth. Too late.

Elrohir straightened, pointed ears twitching as he turned toward the balcony doors. He knew the sound of triumphant laughter better than any living creature. He also knew his little brother's laugh.

"That's not Estel," he growled, and bounded through the double doors just in time to see a pair of figures, one of whom limped noticeably in the twilight, disappearing around the bend in the path below. "Ooh... I'm gonna get them for this," he vowed, slamming his fist into the railing and immediately regretting it because the stone was hard and his flesh wasn't. "No dwarf gets away with pranking _me_." Nursing his hand, he grumbled as he moved back inside. He'd deal with them tomorrow, when his arms weren't so sore.

* * *

Elrohir pointed to the rumpled bed with a silent, mischievous smile. The dwarf was injured, and, not caring to mingle with Thorin's company, Elrohir believed him to be staying in the infirmary, unaware of Kili's stubbornness.

They were crouching together under the sill and stifling laughter when an angry, female screech cut the air above their heads. "KILI!" Billa was wet, chilled, sticky, and _furious_. "Ooh, when I get my hands on you, I'll-"

"Miss Baggins!" Bofur sounded shocked. He'd been helping her into bed, and now felt quite badly for not checking it beforehand.

Elladan turned a shocked look on his brother, punching his shoulder. "That's not a dwarf, you idiot!" he hissed. "That was their halfling!" Now he was feeling distinctly guilty; as amused as he might have otherwise been by Billa's reaction, it really didn't sit well with him, pranking injured, unsuspecting females.

"Let's get out of here!" As they turned to flee around the perimeter of the circular building, they practically bowled over two young dwarves, who must have heard Billa's cries and been running to her aid. Elladan was staring down at the crowns of their flaxen and brown heads as the four recovered from the near-collision. They were as tiny as elven children.

"Aha! It was you two, wasn't it?!" Elladan accused, stepping back, pointing down at them. "Clever for dwarves! Very clever, indeed."

Fili leapt back and nearly knocked his brother over in the process. Catching Kili before he could fall, the blond dwarf grinned guiltily up at Elladan. "Ah! The Twins. We've heard about you. Elrond's sons, right?" He was trying to look innocent, but Fili had never been a good liar, even when he was technically innocent.

"Miss Baggins!" Bofur's voice carried very well, and so did the worried note in it. Fili glanced up and nearly swallowed his tongue, not sure whether or not he should laugh. Billa was leaning out the window, her curly hair sticking out in unnatural ways, expression pinched with outrage.

"You two wait 'til I get my hands on you! You'll wish you'd never been _born_!"

Kili's eyes widened as he realized he and Fili had been set up. "Wait a minute! Billa... we didn't do-"

"Just _what_ is going on here?"

Kili gulped, peering around the building to the front door. No mistaking that voice. Uncle Thorin. The guest chambers were only a short walk away, and certainly within hearing distance. Kili's face went slightly pallid. "Uncle, it wasn't us, it was..." He looked back. The Twins had vanished, like ghosts, like shadows, like... Elves.

Thorin came around the side of the structure, looking from the enraged Billa to the contrite brothers and back to Billa again. Kili couldn't really read his expression; it seemed some unfamiliar combination of bewilderment and... embarrassment. Maybe seeing Billa in this state was awkward for him?

"We didn't do anything," Kili repeated, raising his palms in token of his own confusion. "We're as surprised as you."

Fili looked guilty in spite of being innocent. He usually did, when he was caught in the middle of something he thought he was going to get in trouble for. "I think she got caught in a cross-fire, Uncle. It wasn't our fault they didn't know which bed was Kili's."

Billa was trying to limp out the door now, Bofur restraining her with a look of mild panic on his homely face, as though he were sincerely afraid she was going to do Fili and Kili real harm.

"Lemme at 'em, I'll make 'em _eat _that ego. Stuff 'em 'til they both burst." For some reason, it seemed much more threatening to a hobbit to be fed to death than it was to be beheaded or eaten.

Thorin, seeing a potential delaying of the departure from Rivendell, grew suddenly very stern. "Just a minute, Miss Baggins. I thought you were under orders to stay off that leg until it was healed." He stepped into the doorway, barring her passage through it.

Kili hoped his Uncle could talk some sense into the little halfling. She looked set to kill them both, and by the looks of things, if she didn't succeed in doing so, Thorin _would_. Kili nudged Fili. "We're going to have to come up with something really clever to pay those dratted Twins back for _this_."

Billa glared up at Thorin. She had honey in her hair, and her entire left side seemed to be very wet. After a tense moment, she grunted.

"Fine." As though they'd just had a row, she turned her back on him. "Fine! Deal with them your way. Next time they're close enough, I'll strangle them both. Bofur, help me to the baths. Oh, quit blushing. You're not coming in with me." Her tone was light, but as she let Bofur pick her up, there was a moment when pain flashed across her features. She hid it quickly, and continued teasing Bofur rather than let on.

Fili met his brother's gaze and nodded vigorously. "If Uncle doesn't bury us both first." He watched the older dwarf watching Billa retreat and decided the chances of escape while Kili was still limping were slim to none.

Thorin turned to his nephews and took a few steps toward them that might as well have been the tramp of doom for the looks on the brothers' faces. "Why would you two do that? Isn't it inconvenient enough that we're to be here a full week without you adding to the total?!" His eyes smoldered beneath furrowed brow as he shook his head. "What's in your minds? You think this quest is just another game of yours?"

"Uncle, we didn't _do_ anything!" Fili tried to wipe the guilty look off his face, but it didn't seem to be working very well. "It was those Elves, the Twins..." He looked around, as if they might suddenly materialize and take credit for their bad taste in pranks and targets.

Elrohir had no such intention. In fact, now that he'd had time to recover from the shock of pranking the wrong person, he was quite delighted with this turn of events. Not only had it been a rousing success, but they were getting the poor fools in trouble.

"This is priceless," he assured his brother with a grin, Thorin's words clear as day to his keen hearing.

Thorin was scoffing. "Blaming it on the elves. Is that truly what you're doing, Fili? You may as well have blamed Gandalf, if you thought I'd believe something so absurd. What do you take me for? Whatever else they may be, elves are not prone to joking." He turned his back on them. "Try something like that again, and I'll send you both straight home. You'll not jeopardize this quest for your own sport."

Elladan returned his brother's grin, shaking hands. Success was certainly sweeter than he'd anticipated; his initial sympathy for that ferocious halfling that had appeared at the window hadn't lasted long. "How about we go for some dorwinion, Brother? Toast our victory." Chuckling, the two headed off to the kitchen, giddy with triumph.


	10. Chapter X - Change of Pace

_Ten_

Estel eyed his brothers nervously as they approached, dressed identically as usual, down to their boots. Not that Estel had any trouble telling them apart, but it certainly baffled the dwarves when they saw what was apparently two of the same elf. Elrohir was walking in step with his brother as they made their way down the path, stopped in front of Fili and Kili, then bowed in unison.

"You are, by far, the most worthy adversaries we have yet encountered," Elrohir said with a haughty smile, then winked jovially down at them. "Not bad for dwarves."

Fili, who had been regarding them just as warily as the grey-eyed boy beside him, relaxed when their smiles became less identical.

"Not too bad yourselves, considering you're Elves," he replied with a smirk. "Might want to work on your aim, though." He snickered. Looking back on it, pranking Billa's bed had been hilarious. Just, not so much the part where _they'd_ nearly been sent home.

Gandalf nodded gravely to Elrond, standing side-by-side with his old friend as they watched the dwarves assemble with their assorted gear and weapons. Billa was the last to arrive, and the wizard spared her an appraising glance before turning back to his elven companion.

"Even if Thorin is too stiff-necked to say so, we are very grateful for your hospitality. I'll be seeing you again soon, I think." He was still deeply troubled about this so-called Necromancer the White Council had met to discuss, and it would behoove him to seek aid from Elrond and his kin, if the portents were to be heeded. Saruman might not think this a matter worth investigating, but Gandalf had a much deeper interest in the people of the land than was generally accepted among the Wizards.

Billa leaned heavily on a short ash staff Elrond had gifted to her that morning (along with strict instructions to keep using it until the moon was full in the sky again). She had insisted on carrying her own pack, but Ori, who was her escort today, seemed incredibly distressed.

"But your _hair_, Miss Baggins!" he fretted, his eyes large and dark in his innocent face. The hobbit sighed and ran a hand through her short curls. Until now, her hair had been a wild mess of brown curls, hanging to her elbows on the days she could wrestle a brush through them. Most days she didn't bother, since it all came more or less undone when she washed anyway. Now, at her own request, her long brown locks had been cut to a more manageable length, a fact that bothered Ori to no end.

"It's fine, Ori. I'm not bleeding, it's not burned off, and it'll grow back. Now stop acting like it's the end of the world."

"I could have braided it for you if it bothered you that much."

"I don't wear braids."

"But-"

"Ori, just leave it. It's a haircut, not a disease."

Gandalf lifted his head to look down the path. Thorin was deep in conversation with Balin, and looked more restless than ever. After a moment, the wizard cleared his throat pointedly and addressed Elrond in a louder tone than necessary, his eyes on Thorin. "Your assistance with the map was invaluable, my friend. I'll not forget this service soon." His blue gaze remained on Thorin, and his meaning was clear enough.

Thorin resented Gandalf's manipulative tactics, but nonetheless thought some expression of gratitude would be fitting. He bowed slightly to the elf lord, and seeing his gesture, the other dwarves followed suit.

"My Company is grateful for the hospitality you have rendered us, Lord Elrond," he said, and left it at that.

Elrond bowed in return. "I was glad to offer it, Thorin Oakenshield. The blessing of my house goes with you; may it see you safely wherever fate wills."

With that, Thorin nodded, and turned to the arched causeway leading over the river. The Company followed, and after a brief hike up a series of switchbacks, set their face to the Misty Mountains.

Once they were well on their way into the foothills, Kili fell back and joined Billa and Ori.

"So," he said, crestfallen, "why'd you cut your hair?"

Billa sighed and ran her free hand through the short curls. They were barely long enough to cover the tips of her pointed ears. "I cut it because short hair is easier to take care of. I don't want to slow anyone down any more than I already am." Tilting her head to look up into his face as she limped beside him, the hobbit offered him a smile. "Why?"

Fili fell in on her other side as Ori slipped away, muttering something about being outnumbered. "Because long hair looks so pretty on you." He was grinning, but when she aimed a frown at him, he blushed. "Sorry."

"Isn't she a bit _old_ for you, Fili?" Kili jibed, patting his brother's head. "Besides, Uncle would be furious to know you've been flirting with _his_ burglar." He grinned, absently, playing with one the straps on his pack as they went.

"I'm only… fifty…" Billa started defensively, then trailed off as she remembered that she was solidly middle aged. An old maid. With a sigh, she looked away.

Fili seemed mildly alarmed. "See?" he said, his jaunty tone slightly forced. "She's only fifty. A good decade younger than me. Plenty young." Her put an arm around her shoulders and grinned.

Billa shrugged him off, but she was smiling. "You two act like you're in your tweens," she scolded fondly.

* * *

By dusk, they'd made it a good ten miles up into the pass, and Gloin started a fire in short order while Bombur prepared the evening meal and the others sat about moaning and nursing blisters. Thorin and Gandalf studied the map, discussing just how much progress they'd have to make each day in order to reach the Mountain by Durin's Day, when the keyhole in the secret door would be revealed.

Kili collapsed on a semi-flat stone beside Billa, exhaling heavily, stretching his legs.

"So how are you holding up? Ready to head back to Rivendell yet?"

Billa was on the ground because she was too tired to bother looking for a real place to sit. Her leg ached like crazy and she wasn't sure she had the energy even to _eat_, but she forced a smile for Kili.

"Back to Rivendell? Too far to walk today. Might as well keep going forward." The hobbit chuckled and let her head rest on the ground.

"You alright, Billa?" Fili nudged his brother and handed him a canteen.

"I'm fine." She flapped a hand at them, but didn't bother sitting up, or even opening her eyes.

Kili leaned over the halfling. "Uncle's looking at you," he said in a singsong voice, grinning down at her.

It was true. Thorin had turned away from the map, evidently at some word from Gandalf, and was staring at Billa with what might have been mild concern.

"Good for him," Billa chuckled, wiggling her hairy toes and ignoring the heat in her cheeks. With an effort, she pushed herself upright, then, reluctantly, used her staff to heave herself to her feet. She didn't want Thorin to think she was useless. She wasn't going to give him an excuse to leave her behind. Leaning heavily on her stick, she limped over to the fire, ignoring Thorin's gaze and Fili's giggles.

"Can I help, Bombur?"

The fat dwarf glanced at her and smiled, his eyes almost disappearing amid cheerful crinkles. "Of course, Miss Baggins. You're always welcome. Come, sit, and tell me what it is you'd do with two pheasants and a hare."

Thorin turned back to the wizard. "How does she look?" His voice was little more than a low rumble. "I fear she may not fare well in the High Pass on that leg." It was a legitimate concern. A weak link could cost them all dearly, in time, and possibly more.

Gandalf looked at the halfling for a long moment before answering. "Your fears are not unfounded, but I imagine there is more to Miss Baggins than you presume. Should she fall behind or slow you down more than you can cope with, you will be justified in leaving her behind." The wizard seemed, somehow, to know certain details he was withholding from the dwarf as he turned his piercing gaze back to him. "I am not gifted with foresight, as Lord Elrond is, but I can tell you... without the hobbit, you will not succeed."

"So you've told me on numerous occasions," Thorin sighed, somewhat irritated. He folded the map and tucked it into his tunic. "And I'll respond as I always have... I hope you know what you're doing."

Billa was helping Bombur pluck a pheasant now, and she seemed to know far more about the process than the portly cook did. Her fingers moved quicker than sight, while his stubby, short ones fumbled with the delicate little feathers, pulling out a few here and there but mostly slipping off with nothing to show for it. Billa kept offering him pointers and he'd nod in appreciation, trying to model his efforts more closely upon hers.

Thorin nodded to himself. She seemed to have enough wits about her still to be of use, but he wasn't sure how she'd fare as time went on. He still didn't know quite what to make of her outlandish haircut. She looked... strange now without her long ringlets. Bare. He could see the tips of her ears now, the back of her neck. He felt awkward even thinking about it, and he turned away, pacing toward his nephews.

"Fili," he whispered, "I saw you speaking with Miss Baggins earlier. What did she say? How much grief is her injury giving her?"

Fili looked up from oiling his leather belt, startled to find his uncle leaning over him. After a moment's pause to consider the question, he answered in an undertone. "Tired, but not in pain. Dunno how many days she'll be able to keep up." He hesitated, studying his uncle with mild surprise. "I don't think she means to turn back, though. Are you worried, Uncle?" Aware of the weight of responsibility that rested on Thorin's shoulders, Fili shifted slightly, wishing he knew what to do to ease the burden. "We can keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't fall behind."

Thorin nodded, thoughtfully. "You've already been doing that. Don't coddle her too much. The rigors of the way will only increase; you'll be doing her a disservice when the time comes that you'll no longer be able to ease her trouble."

He turned away, hands clasped behind him. What was the use of bringing along someone who had to be protected, comforted, accommodated? She'd not last an instant on her own, with no way of defending herself. Then Thorin remembered. That little sword Gandalf had given her. An elf dagger, really. He turned back to Fili, nodding toward Billa. "When she's done with the meal, give her a lesson. You and Kili. Teach her the basics of defense, and at the least, where to strike for a killing blow. I'll not have anyone in this Company be completely helpless."

Fili glanced at the hobbit, then at his brother, and nodded. "Yes, sir." The idea of teaching anyone anything was a little intimidating, to be honest, but he would do his best, because Thorin had entrusted the task to him. His point about not being able to help her in the future was a sharp one, and Fili wished it weren't true.

* * *

Dinner was delicious, as usual, and Billa, though she ate fairly little, was still fiddling with her bowl when Fili and Kili approached. Her short curls were sticking up in places where she'd run her fingers through them, and though she smiled, there was little energy in the expression.

"Up you get, Billa," Fili urged with a grin, taking her bowl and pressing her dagger into her hands. "It's time for your first lesson."

"Lesson?" Billa looked down at the weapon, then up at the brothers. "You're joking, right? It's nearly dark!"

"Well, we had better get moving then, hadn't we?"

Kili had a stout, hardwood branch he'd borrowed from the kindling pile, and he tossed it to his brother.

"Too dangerous to spar with sharps, especially with a novice," he said. "Her 'letter opener' there hasn't been sharpened in a while, so you're _probably_ safe."

He grinned at Fili, and the blonde took a stance a few feet away from the bewildered-looking halfling while Kili moved behind her. "Now, we're going to start with blocking. If you don't mind, I think the easiest way to do this would be to show you... like this." He reached down and took the wrist of her sword hand in his fingers, wrapping his other hand around her waist.

"Come at her, Fili," he said, and when the blonde complied, he moved Billa's sword to block the (rather restrained) blow before it landed. "Keep your eye on his weapon at all times. It should practically be a reflex. Your sword becomes a part of your hand; you won't need to look at it at all. Make sense, Billa?"

Billa's arms, shoulders and back were nearly rigid with tension. A glance at her face told Fili she wasn't frightened, she was _angry_. In a way, that was good. Anger would make her reflexes quicker. On the other hand, it also made her more dangerous, because she had a real weapon, and he didn't.

A heartbeat passed, then two, and the halfling relaxed again, her anger draining away. "Yes, it makes sense." She rolled her shoulders and adjusted her stance to more closely match Kili's, fixing her gaze on Fili's branch.

Thorin watched from the other side of the fire; his nephews, his burglar, and the dull clattering of steel against wood. _His_ burglar? There he was doing it again. Well, she _was _contractually bound to perform a service, he reminded himself. That gave him some claim on her. But this was the last thing he'd planned for upon leaving the Blue Mountains- allowing this tiny female who wasn't even a dwarf to influence his future, the future of his people.

As he watched her, the flames reflecting orange in his blue eyes, like fire burning on water, he felt a peculiar stirring, something he'd experienced before but couldn't place. She seemed so small, so helpless. Was it concern for her safety? Was that the feeling? Thorin wasn't sure he knew, or even wanted to know.


	11. Chapter XI - Moving Mountains

_Eleven_

The light returned timidly, and when the sun did finally finish what must have been an arduous climb to peer through the mist-shrouded mountain peaks, the Company was well on its way up the pass. There was a light sprinkling of snow now, and the air was chill and damp. Most of the dwarves wore their hoods up, and Thorin had donned his fur-lined cloak.

As the day wore on, the weather made motions to warm up just enough for the snow to become icy rain, something Thorin knew would greatly hinder them if they were to make much progress throughout the daylight hours. The cliffside pass ahead was narrow, rough, and poorly maintained, if it had ever been maintained at all. Mud would only make it worse. If luck were with them, they'd find a cave before the worst of the weather unleashed itself upon them.

Luck wasn't with them.

The cliff on their left was a sheer wall of rock, slick and wet with the icy rain that fell on them in increasingly dense torrents. Fili and Kili, who had been hovering around their burglar earlier in the day, had learned that trying to help her too much ended with a grumpy hobbit and ringing ears, when she decided she'd had enough and rapped them both over their heads with her staff.

Now the brothers toiled along with her, one behind, one in front, and for the most part, ignored the halfling as they tramped and slipped over the wet rock. Their trail had dwindled down to a narrow stone shelf, jutting from the side of the mountain. On the right, the drop-off was steep enough to be nearly vertical, and the bottom of the pass was too shrouded in mist to be seen.

Thunder boomed overhead and Billa jumped, her bare feet skidding toward the edge. Kili, who was behind her, let out a startled yell and grabbed one of her arms, yanking her back. She teetered for a fraction of a second, her staff spinning out over the void before she fell into Kili, trembling. A yell came from up ahead, and it sounded like Thorin, bellowing about finding shelter. Fili pulled them both to their feet and Dwalin hurried them along.

Another peal of thunder boomed directly above their heads, and Gandalf's voice cracked back along the line of dwarves.

"TAKE COVER!"

A shower of small boulders rained down on them, and as the Company pressed their bodies into the relative shelter of the mountain's face, Billa spotted a huge chunk of rock sailing through the air, back-lit by twin forks of lightning.

"Eru save us..." The oath was lost in the wind and rain. The seconds stretched into an eternity before the boulder collided with the mountain above them. More splintered rock and stone shards fell.

"The legends are true," exclaimed one of the dwarves- Billa couldn't be sure who. "They're giants! Stone giants!" And now, as another fork of lightning split the air, Billa could see the huge, rough form of a man, made entirely of stone.

"We need to move, now!" Dwalin bellowed over the growls of the massive stone creatures. There were more of them, nearly indistinguishable from the mountains that were their home. Lightning and thunder and pelting rain seemed to have woken them from long slumber to hurl massive boulders at one another, no doubt their form of merriment. Fili hurried forward and Kili followed, giving Billa the occasional nudge from behind. It wasn't until the shelf that served as their path fractured under their feet that the dwarves paused.

"Kili!" Fili whirled, staring in horror as part of the mountain peeled away, taking his brother, their burglar, and the stalwart Dwalin with it. Dwalin was holding the two smaller forms against the rock wall, braced and snarling into the wind as the stone giant stepped forward into the pass.

Thorin turned, realizing all at once that part of his Company was missing. No time to wonder what had happened to them; a moment later, another giant approached out of the darkness and rain, moving toward them with what he imagined was violent intent. The stone trembled under their feet and it was with a feeling of mild panic that Thorin noticed the missing dwarves and halfling standing on what appeared to be the knee of a new giant, advancing to meet the attacker.

"Kili!" he yelled, but his voice was lost to the roaring of moving stone and the howling of the storm. The attacker was evidently bested, knocked off balance, its knees buckling, threatening to collide with the nearby cliffside. Thorin raced forward just in time to see the stone crack against the mountain ahead with a massive report that shook the path beneath his feet.

Horror gripped his heart as he realized what had happened. Dead. Kili, Dwalin, Billa. Dead. Staggering forward, face stricken, he rounded the corner.

Miraculously, Kili and Dwalin lay on the shelf, surrounded by shards of stone, stunned, but very much alive. A cry from Bombur quickly tempered Thorin's relief.

"Where's Billa?"

"Over here!" Bofur yelled as he threw himself down on his stomach, reaching over the edge. Fili and Kili rushed to help him, and the others crowded around. Billa was hanging by her hands, eyes wide in her terrified face as she scrabbled at the smooth, slick stone with her bare feet. There was no purchase for her, and as her hands slipped, there was a heart-stopping moment when she thought for sure that she was going to die. Bofur caught one of her hands and she dangled in the air like a worm on a hook.

"Grab my hand!" yelled Fili, straining to reach for her while his brother braced him from behind. Billa lifted her free hand, but the wind was buffeting her away from the safety of the cliffside. Bofur grunted in pain, both strong hands wrapped around her wrist.

She was slipping.

Thorin could envision her plunging down, down, down into the mist below. He hesitated only an instant, and then he was over the cliffside himself, latched on firmly with one hand in a crevice in the stone, the other gripping Billa's forearm. With one massive effort, he heaved her up, and Bofur and the others managed to pull her the rest of the way onto the slick shelf.

A moment later, Thorin's toe slipped from the wet groove in the cliff-face, and all his weight went to his right hand. He grunted, floundering at the rock for another handhold and coming up with nothing. It was an agonizing moment before Dwalin's firm grip came to his aid, hoisting him back to safety. Thorin panted, shuddering a little at the realization he'd almost left the Company leaderless in a heedless bid to save... her.

The others were gasping, laughing, clapping each other on the back, relieved to have survived such a bizarre ordeal.

"Well, _that _was close," Bombur was saying, "I thought we'd lost the burglar."

Thorin turned, looking dazed, confused. "She's been lost ever since she left home. She should never have come." The anger in the statement didn't seem to be directed at Billa; if anything, it was meant for _him_. She'd almost been killed. He'd nearly been killed leaping to her rescue, something he had predicted would happen... only he hadn't thought he'd be the dwarf doing the rescuing.

Surely the others were wondering now why he'd risk himself to the jagged rocks below- why he wouldn't have ordered Dwalin or Nori or Gloin to do it- why he'd almost left the dwarves of Erebor leaderless... on account of a halfling.

He had no answer for that. He knew only the leadings of his heart; there had been no thinking involved.

Gandalf turned to him reproachfully. "Thorin Oakenshield! What happened just now was no fault of Billa's. Cast your anger on the stone giants, if you think it will do any good, but otherwise keep silent."

Thorin glowered at the wizard, turning away. He'd not let the old man dictate to him as if _he_ were the leader of the Company. They needed to find shelter, and quickly. A cave would be ideal, if one could be found.

"Come on!" he ordered, mentally cursing the rain, the wind, the stone giants, the wizard... and that dratted burglar for whatever spell she'd cast over him.

Billa felt as though Thorin had smacked her. She had thought he was starting to see her as at least marginally useful. Fili, Kili, Bofur and Bombur all helped her to her feet, and the halfling limped after the straggling line of dwarves, concentrating fiercely on the rain and the cold, and the thuds and booms of enormous rocks hitting the mountainside as the stone giants resumed their game.


	12. Chapter XII - Weak Link

_A/N: Thanks, all you wonderful readers! We especially appreciate those of you who have kindly taken the time to review, many of you faithfully. Without further ado, another installment in the saga of Billa Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield!_

_Twelve_

It was a relief indeed when they finally found a relatively dry, roomy cave, with a sandy floor and a narrow entrance that kept the wind out.

There would be no fire or warm laughter that night. The dwarves huddled together, miserable, wet, and freezing, while they shared provisions and cold, leftover stew from the night before. Billa settled herself against a wall and massaged her aching leg. It wasn't fully healed yet, though the bone had knit together.

Fili watched her, a worried expression on his face. Nudging Kili, he nodded to her and took his paltry dinner with him as he plopped himself down beside the little hobbit lass. "Don't look so glum," he said, poking her with a smile. "Uncle Thorin gets grumpy sometimes. That's not your fault."

Kili sat cross-legged on the other side of Billa, holding his stew bowl in one hand, tousling the hobbit's curls with the other. "I like it, actually," he said. "Your hair. It's... different." Thorin's words had hurt him as well as Billa, and he wasn't sure why. He felt, somehow, as though _he'd_ failed, too. But talking about it wouldn't help; distracting Billa might. "Haven't met such... erm... _active_ rocks in a while, have we, Fili?"

"I'll be happy if we never meet any that active ever again." Fili shook his head. "That was a little too much excitement for the mountains, if you ask me. They needed their rest after all that. A couple hundred years' worth."

Billa chuckled, shaking curls out of her face. "If we were surprised, think about them. Can you imagine waking up and having little people walking all over you? If he hadn't been so distracted, I think he'd have been just as unsettled as we were."

Fili laughed, but wasn't sure he agreed. He could all too easily imagine being smashed like a beetle by a startled giant.

"Hadn't thought of that," said Kili, amused by this idea. He sighed, glancing ruefully down at the congealed, brown glop filling his bowl. "Well. Cold stew. Better than nothing, I guess. I wish Uncle weren't so paranoid. A fire would've been nice." He turned to make sure Thorin hadn't heard his grousing and was surprised to see the dwarf's blue eyes fixed on him. He gulped.

Thorin gestured that he should come, and motioned at Fili, too. The brothers complied, and their uncle took them aside, speaking in an undertone. "From here on out, I am placing Miss Baggins under your protection." Anticipating some question from Fili, as this had been precisely what he'd said the blonde _shouldn't_ do the day before, he went on. "I cannot risk her... compromising this quest. Don't allow anything like what happened earlier to happen again. And tell her nothing of this. Understand?"

* * *

The brothers returned to their positions on either side of Billa, making sure they kept up a steady stream of jokes and stories that made her smile. By unspoken consent, the two of them knew that the sadness and pain they'd seen in the halfling's face at Thorin's callous comment on the path couldn't be allowed to surface for too long. Despite being exhausted, wet, and cold, Fili insisted on taking Billa through another round of training. It was slower going tonight, due to the necessity of using real weapons and the relatively cramped size of the cave, but Billa made good progress in spite of these limitations. Kili taught her a little trick he'd learned about disarming Fili (it didn't really work against the others, but Fili was, unfortunately, just predictable enough to be taken advantage of).

Eventually, the Company settled down to sleep for the night, in spite of the howling storm outside. They huddled in their blankets and pressed tightly against one another, and the cave was soon filled with a chorus of snores. Billa shifted and squirmed and rolled over, trying to find a position that didn't feel like she was lying on bare rock. Trying to find a position that didn't feel like she was 'the weak link.'

_She's been lost ever since she left home. She should never have come._

Maybe he was right. She had thought she could add something to their Company, that she could be useful. That she could _achieve_ something. But maybe Gandalf was wrong. Maybe Thorin was right.

Restless and angry with herself for slowing them down, angry with herself for thinking that she could be something she wasn't, Billa gave up on sleeping. She was no burglar. She was no adventurer. She was a hobbit. An _injured_ hobbit, at that. She would only endanger them. Thorin had nearly died, saving her today. She couldn't let that happen again. Careful not to wake Fili and Kili, she rolled up her blankets and shouldered her bag. It was time for her to face the facts. She belonged in the Shire.

Bofur, who was sitting nearest the cave entrance on watch duty, sat up sharply as he saw the halfling walking past, her bag packed, her face disconsolate. "Where you goin', Billa?" he whispered in alarm, jumping up and quickly following her. "You can't just... leave. Not like this!" His eyes and voice were plaintive. He'd been very fond of the plucky little hobbit from the first, and he couldn't stand the thought that she'd sneak away without so much as an explanation, a farewell. "Why, Billa?"

Billa stopped, surprised. She didn't turn to face him. Couldn't. Not without making this ever so much harder for herself. "I can't stay with you, Bofur," she whispered, her words tight with pain. "Thorin's right- I'm not cut out for this. You all... you're used to this. Living on the road, fighting and traveling. I belong at home. In the Shire. I was a fool to come at all, and I'm only slowing you down." She glanced out into the storm, which seemed to have calmed down a little since they'd found their shelter. "You saw what nearly happened today. Thorin could have _died_ trying to save my life. How could I live with myself if one of you... any of you... didn't make it, because of me?"

Bofur shook his head. "No, Miss. You haven't slowed us down at all. You've been..." He lowered his voice even more. "You've been the best thing that's happened to this Company. I really believe that."

Billa shot him a confused glance, skepticism clear in her lowered eyebrows. How could she be, when she was always such an... _inconvenience?_

As faint as Bofur's voice was, his words were still quite distinct in Thorin's ears. The dwarf hadn't gone to sleep at all. He'd heard Billa packing, seen her walking toward the door. He would have gone after her himself if Bofur hadn't beaten him to it. Now he lay still, listening. Feeling conflicted. He hadn't meant them, the words he'd said to her after he'd saved her. They'd issued from frustration with himself, frustration at the power she unconsciously had over him, at the need he felt to protect her. Frustration with the fact that this quest was endangering her life. There. Now he'd admitted it to himself. He didn't want her to be hurt, or killed, or worse. She was a little, delicate thing, a thing he felt compelled to protect. No, she didn't understand what he'd meant, the meaning behind the words. Even he didn't fully understand.

Bofur lay a hand on Billa's shoulder. "Forget what Thorin said; he didn't mean it. I'm sure he didn't. You're welcome among us." He smiled sheepishly. "Even if we don't all show it at times."

Billa hesitated, conflict in her face as she glanced back at the jumble of snoring dwarves. "I... want you to be safe," she whispered, half to herself. "But... even if I left... you wouldn't be. I just... wouldn't be here to see it." Her halting words accompanied fierce pangs of grief. She didn't want to lose them. She didn't want to see them disappear into death. She didn't want to be _alone_ again. The halfling shifted her weight off her aching leg, unintentionally leaning into Bofur's strong hand. After a long moment, she sighed, and it was the sound of one who'd come to the conclusion that her decision had been made quite a while ago, and she'd just refused to see it.

Thorin's relief was mingled with something very close to guilt. She wanted to get away from him so badly she'd risk the wrath of the stone giants again? Risk traveling the treacherous mountain path, alone, in the dark and driving rain? Idle words seemed ever destined to be his bane. He'd thought nothing of how his remarks would affect her; not then, anyway. He'd thought only of his own weakness, a weakness he'd not even known existed within him until he had to make the choice of an instant. 'The weak link' he'd spoken of in Rivendell seemed, at the moment, to be himself.

Billa went on. "Gandalf keeps insisting that you need me. I suppose I ought to..." She lifted her head, ears twitching slightly as she scanned the cave. "Do you hear something?" A grinding, rumbling sound that wasn't part of the snoring symphony. She could feel it in her toes. Were the giants at it again?

Thorin felt the rumbling, too, and sat up quickly. "Everyone up! Get up! NOW!"

He was too late. Before most of the dwarves could do more than grunt and peel tired eyes open, the entire floor fell out from beneath them, sending the startled Company - and all of their bedding and gear - plummeting into the darkness below.

They rolled and slid and skidded and collided with each other, down two hundred feet of nearly vertical stone channel. Finally, they were deposited as neatly as you please into what seemed a hideous parody of a basket, woven of bones and sinews and oily ropes. Bombur came last, plopping loudly on top of the pile of dwarves and the halfling, all of whom now lay, groaning, stunned, bruised, and weak, but thankfully alive.

"Fili, where's Billa?" Thorin coughed faintly, grimacing, massaging what was most likely a sprained shoulder.

"I can hear you just fine," groaned the halfling, looking pale-faced and holding her injured leg gingerly. "I'm right here." She was near the top of the pile and was only half-under Bombur, who was working very hard to pull himself upright. That process only put more strain on the dwarves below, who were making various noises of discomfort and protest. Fili was squirming, valiantly trying to get out from under Gloin and Dwalin, who were growling profanities at one another in Khuzdul as they tried to right themselves.

A loud, cackling laugh split the darkness, and a smoky torch bobbed into view. Beneath it, the malformed face of a goblin peered through the bones at them, grinning wickedly. "Lookit what we got 'ere. _Trespassers._"

More goblins poured into the chamber behind the first, filling the air with their foul voices and leering smiles. Most of them appeared to be armed, and as the bone-basket was suddenly opened, several of the dwarves felt the sharp, threatening prod of a crooked, rusty blade.

"Come along, then," said the one with the torch, who seemed to be the leader. "Down, down we go." As the dwarves and halfling were herded along the smokey tunnel, tripped and slapped and poked as they went, the goblins started a chilling, chanting song in time to the flapping of their big, flat feet. They sang in garbled rhyme and descriptive, painful phrases about what would happen to the dwarves once they reached "Goblin-town."


	13. Chapter XIII - Goblin Town

_Thirteen_

Thorin must've hit his head at some point during the fall. His ears were ringing, and his vision didn't want to focus. It was nearly all he could do to stay upright as the goblins prodded him along across the swaying rope bridges and over the rickety platforms. The vast cavern ceiling above them flickered orange as the grunting, cackling, squealing group went along, and every so often, when there was a lull in the gloating and triumphant banter, the dwarves heard the distant, echoing clanking and grinding and thudding of other goblins at work in the adjacent tunnels.

After several minutes of being shoved along, Thorin risked a furtive glance over his shoulder. He quickly counted twelve dwarves. But there were two notable persons absent. No Gandalf... and no Billa. The wizard must've slipped away in the commotion. Thorin could only hope that the halfling had gone with him, wherever he'd disappeared to.

The dwarves were shoved along until they reached a fairly sturdy wooden platform, whereupon there sat an enormous throne and an even more enormous goblin. The creature was grotesquely fat, and sported more sores, boils, and scars than any dwarf should ever have to see. As smaller goblins dumped the Company's assorted gear at their king's feet, the huge goblin graced them with a huge, unsightly smile.

"Well well well, who do we have the pleasure of entertaining today, my pretties?"

"Trespassers!" called one of the goblins, nearly frenzied with their enthusiasm for pain and bloodshed. "Dwarves come to invade our tunnels!"

Fili shot a look at his brother. This wasn't a game. This wasn't one of their stories, where they would miraculously find a way to kill all their foes and escape unscathed. This was real. And what was more... "Where's Billa?" he whispered, glancing around with a sudden feeling of dread. The goblins around them were all but rioting now, jumping up and down, waving their weapons and calling out answers to questions no one had asked.

"Cook them! Eat them!" screeched one.

"Kill them!" howled another. "Rip them, tear them, pound them, smash them!"

"QUIET." The goblin king leaned forward in his seat, and the entire platform swayed slightly. "Come forward Dwarf, and speak, if you dare."

Kili couldn't help but shiver a little as he listened to the goblins hiss and howl for the dwarves' blood, gazed upon the corpulent perversion that was the creatures' king. At his brother's question, his mouth fell open a little. He'd lost sight of Billa when they'd first been hurried away from the trap, and had taken it for granted that she was with Fili. He slanted a look at Thorin, wondering if he'd noticed, then turned back to his brother. "I don't know," he said, his words almost lost in the chaotic glee of the goblins. "Lost track of her when we fell. Might be with Gandalf?"

Thorin stepped forward, shrugging off Dwalin's protective hand on his shoulder. That evidently didn't deter the hulking, tattooed dwarf, who shoved Thorin aside and stepped in front of his leader.

"I speak for these dwarves!" he bellowed. "I lead this Company."

The Goblin King looked intrigued. "Oh? Really? What kind of 'Company' is this? Come to steal from us? Come to assassinate me, perhaps?"

Dwalin snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not worth the effort. You or your pathetic 'kingdom.' Besides, you have nothing we'd want."

The goblin cackled, slapping his flabby thigh. "You flatter _yourself_, Dwarf, if you think I don't know who it is you're protecting. I'd recognize Thorin Thrainson, King Under the Mountain, anywhere. Although it helps that he's wearing the signet ring of King Thror, I suppose." He grinned, revealing a crooked row of rotting, half-missing teeth.

Kili gulped. If they hadn't been doomed before, they were now.

Fili made a gesture that might have been a plea for mercy and swiped his tongue over very dry lips. The lower one seemed to be bleeding.

"Let's hope so, Brother." The hobbit had to be with Gandalf. Where else _could_ she be?

The Goblin King eyed Thorin with a hungry sort of glee in his mean little eyes. "So, Oakenshield," he said, clearly enjoying his power over them as he pushed Dwalin aside with one fat hand, "what brings you to my humble kingdom?"

"A horde of goblin-filth," growled Dwalin, taking his place beside his king once again and looking very much as though he were more than willing to kill the tremendous goblin with his bare hands.

"I would suggest you control your little bodyguard," advised the goblin king. "I'm tempted to make an example of him."

Thorin glowered at the repulsive creature and nodded at Dwalin, who growled out a protest, but withdrew. "You're right. I am Thorin. What of it?"

The goblin leered at him with obvious delight. "Well, what a pleasure to finally meet Your Highness face to face! I've heard tell of your doings in Ered Luin. All very interesting, I'm sure, though perhaps not very 'kingly,' wandering like an itinerant from town to town, laboring at the forges of Men." He sneered derisively, and Thorin lowered his eyes. "So my question is, what are you doing back in this part of the world again? Obviously, you must have some scheme in mind."

Thorin glared up at him once more. "You're well-informed for an overgrown abscess living in a mountain-hole."

The goblin king's malicious smile twisted into an angry scowl. Apparently, he wasn't flattered by the words "overgrown abscess" when in reference to his appearance. "I make it my business to stay well-informed." Gesturing at one of his lackeys and settling back in his throne, the smile returned to his flabby face. "Send a message to the orcs- tell them I've found their prey." As the goblin swung off with a gleeful cackle, the goblin king leered unpleasantly at the dwarves. "They'll pay handsomely for the privilege of killing you, I think."

Thorin looked faintly surprised. "Indeed? I didn't realize my head was at a premium among orc kind."

The Goblin King's goiter bounced as he nodded, smiling smugly. "Oh, you've no idea, Thrainson. There's one orc in particular who'll be thrilled to get his _hand_ on you." He chuckled to himself, as if at an inside joke. "Maybe you've made his acquaintance. Huge, pale, rides a white warg?"

Thorin looked up at this, fear lurking behind the blue wells of his eyes. "Azog the Defiler is _dead_," he said darkly, but it was obvious his belief in the statement was crumbling even as he uttered it.

"Is he?" the goblin mocked, jabbing Thorin with his hideous, skull-crowned scepter. "I suppose that's why he's sent word to the four corners of the world advertising the bounty that's on you." He guffawed, delighted at Thorin's shock and dismay.

"Now let's see. We have a fitting fate for our poor excuse for a mountain king. How about these others?" He turned sickly yellow eyes on the rest of the dwarves, several of whom looked fit to faint. The goblin's flat feet slapped across the wooden platform as he inspected the group, and he cawed with glee when Ori began to tremble, latching onto Oin's arm for protection.

"Looks like you've brought some dwarflings along, Thorin. Such pathetic little things. Don't even have proper beards. Much like yourself, actually."

The goblin turned to his guards. "Bring 'em out, boys. The young ones. Let's have some fun!"

At first, Fili fought to defend the others. Then he realized that he was among the "dwarflings" being dragged forward. The blond struggled valiantly, converting his fear into anger for the sake of his brother. For his uncle. For Ori, who looked like he was about to wet himself, if he hadn't already. The goblins' filthy hands were latching onto his armor, threatening to tear it off, dragging at his belt, tearing at his cloak. With a roar, he tossed one of the smaller goblins clean over the edge, twisting so his back was against Kili's.

The goblin king started to laugh, as though the lives of his own subjects made no difference to him. "Keep him under control, my pretties," he scolded mockingly. The goblins piled on top of the blond and his brother, bashing at their heads with dried bones and sturdy clubs. The two were knocked near senseless before they were shoved forward, along with the trembling Ori and a rather insulted-looking Bofur.

Seeing his nephews beaten and dragged forward awoke unadulterated rage in Thorin, and the oath he'd sworn to his sister had burned hot in his eyes as he fought his way toward the young dwarves. It had taken six goblins to restrain him, and a good clubbing to the head, besides. Now he was on his knees, two goblins on each arm, two with hands tangled in his dark hair, and two others with their long fingers on his shoulders, standing by. He was gasping for breath, trembling, a trickle of red streaming down his face from his head wound. "Swine!" he hissed at the Goblin King, spitting blood at its feet.

"Tut tut," said the goblin, grinning, "we mustn't call names, dear Thorin. I wonder, though, why these dwarves seem so... dear to you. Is it just because they're young? Hmm? I think not. Relatives, perhaps? Sons? Oh, but I forget, you have none. Nephews, then."

Thorin's face, as stoic as he strove to keep it, betrayed the confirmation the goblin sought.

"Oh, how enchanting! He's brought his pretty little nephews out for a jaunt in the Mountains!" The goblins around him snickered and prodded at the young dwarves and Bofur. "Well, let's show them a bit of fun, shall we? Start with the flaxen-haired one. He'll give good sport, I think."

Fili was separated from the others, groaning as he was dropped at the foot off the wooden throne. The goblin king turned, his flat feet making nasty slapping sounds on the swaying platform, mounds of flesh jiggling grotesquely. "Tog, why don't you have a go at him?" A large, muscular goblin armed with a heavy cutlass sidled forward, grinning excitedly in the torchlight. As Tog advanced on Fili, who was still recovering from the head-bashing he'd just received, the goblin king leaned down to Thorin's eye level, chuckling darkly.

"What are you going to do, King Under the Mountain?" he asked mockingly. "Think you can save him?" He gestured, and Thorin's hair was pulled cruelly, straining his neck as others pushed his shoulders forward, forcing him to watch Fili fight to the death.

The blond dwarf was doing his level best to stay out of Tog's reach, but the ring of howling goblins wouldn't let him get more than a blade's length away from his larger, slower opponent. Despite the cutlass's heavy, rusted appearance, it was very sharp, as Fili found out when he cut it a little too close and Tog opened a deep cut in his side. Blood spattered the wooden slats and Fili stumbled, but kept moving, face set and determined. It was only after he'd made a wild dive and came up with a sword in his hands that the goblin king seemed to realize that he'd made a mistake.

Thorin snarled, wrenching wildly at the hands restraining him. He'd freed himself from half of them when another brutal blow to the skull dropped him to the floor. He lay still a moment, and when he came to himself again, his head throbbed and his eyes were cloudy. They focused, and he saw that Fili had just slain Tog.

He had a sword. He had Deathless, Thorin's spare blade, which he must have managed to grab when he'd gone sprawling just as Thorin had been knocked out. The dark-haired dwarf grunted, struggling violently against the slimy appendages pressing him into the roughly planed wood.

Utilizing the distraction Fili had created, Kili jerked away from the two goblins restraining him and lunged through the ring of goblins toward his brother. The other dwarves - especially Dwalin - were roaring and struggling madly against their captors now, and the look on the Great Goblin's face said things were getting decidedly out of his control. The platform was practically overrun with goblins, every inch occupied with the disgusting, grimy creatures as they restrained the outraged dwarves.

Then a sly smile flickered at the corners of the Goblin King's ugly mouth, and he knelt beside Thorin, a jagged dagger in his warty hand.

"Enough!" he bellowed, and his voice carried surprisingly well over the chaos. "I'll kill him! I'll slit his throat right where he lies!"

Fili froze, his eyes fixed on Thorin. He glanced at Kili, who was equally motionless, then at Dwalin, who was in danger of having his arms twisted off, and finally- Fili's gaze flicked up to the Goblin King, to the dagger that pressed against Thorin's neck.

"It's your choice," the fat goblin crooned, looking far too pleased with himself. "Azog will pay well for the head of Thrain's son, whether it's attached to his shoulders or not."

Fili slowly lowered the sword he held, shaking with anger. "You'll regret this," he growled, sounding surprisingly like his grandfather as his eyes blazed with barely suppressed rage.

"Oh, I don't think so," the goblin sneered, flicking the tip of the dagger in a surprisingly dexterous motion beneath Thorin's chin. A thin line of red snaked down the dwarf's throat. "Now drop your weapon, or he'll do more than bleed."

Fili dropped the sword. Kili backed toward his brother, looking fearfully at the encircling ring of leering goblin faces. A moment later, the two brothers were wrestled, irresistibly, to the floor.

The Goblin King's blade didn't leave Thorin's jugular, and it was all the dark-haired dwarf could do to remain still as his nephews were descended upon by the furious goblins with clubs and whips and fists.

Kili did what he could to protect his wounded brother, shielding his body with his own despite Fili's forceful protests.

"Why don't you just kill me, then?" Thorin growled through tightening throat, face stricken. "Kill me, and leave them be!"

"But that wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it?" the goblin laughed a wheezing, crackly laugh. "With a will, lads! The Mountain King's not crying yet."

Kili winced as the goblins' claws carved bloody furrows in his arms and back, but stubbornly withheld verbal protest. Uncle was clearly upset enough as it was. Fili was still yelling at him to get off, but the young dwarf wouldn't listen, wouldn't let them hurt his older brother any more than they already had. There was nothing on or under the earth that could shake his resolve. Fili's cries only served to strengthen the conviction that what he was doing was the right course of action.

The goblins were in a frenzy, driven into a state of crazed bloodlust by the helplessness of their victims. The platform groaned under their combined weight, rocking slightly as their king egged them on. Thorin's neck ached as his head was pulled back even further, everything inside him screaming in protest, raging against the helplessness that consumed him. His nephews, his sister-sons. He'd failed them.


	14. Chapter XIV - Riddles in the Dark

_Note from the Author: Hey guys, this is Elle. *sheepish smile* Some of you probably noticed that Billa actually failed to find the Ring on her way to Gollum's cave. I've fixed that little oversight now. Thank you for your patience. You're all marvelous, wonderful, and all sorts of majestic. Thanks so much for 11,000+ views! We'll do our very, very best to keep the story gloriously exciting._

_Fourteen_

It was in this moment of hopelessness that Gandalf returned, heralded by a flash of bright light that swept dwarves and goblins to the platform, knocked them momentarily senseless. The Great Goblin floundered at the edge a moment, and then, with a wail, plunged over, nearly taking Thorin with him.

"Take up arms!" the pointy-hatted silhouette of the wizard urged, Glamdring glowing palely in the dim light. "Fight!"

The dwarves struggled to their feet, scouring the platform for their weapons, while the goblins lay a while longer, still stunned. But Kili lay where he'd been thrown, gasping, curled up, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Fili sat beside his brother, eyes watering as he recovered from his attempt to stand. His head was reeling and he felt like if he let go of his side, it would open up and spill his insides all over the platform. A ridiculous thought, of course, but it felt that way nonetheless. Fili had never seen another creature disemboweled, and the idea of it happening to him was ludicrous, as far as he was concerned. Still, having failed at standing, he turned his attention to his brother.

"Idiot," he growled, giving Kili's arm a halfhearted tug, trying to get him to sit up. "I told you not to..." When Kili rolled a little toward him, he saw the deep, bleeding gouges in his brother's back and arms. "Mahal's hammer... Don't you _dare_ do this to me, Kili. Get up. Come on, get up. If I can get up, you can. Please, Kili."

Oin's hands were as steady as ever as he found them, though his face was twisted with worry. He pushed Fili out of the way and used his own jacket as an impromptu bandage, tying it around Kili's deepest injuries before pulling him upright and stuffing a bundle of dried herbs into the injured dwarf's mouth.

"Chew," he ordered, then turned to Fili. "Arm yourself, lad. We haven't time to lay about."

* * *

Billa slowly regained consciousness, feeling as though the world were spinning in lazy circles around the spot where she lay. She could feel blood in her hair, and her leg felt like someone had set her knee on fire, but the place where the break had been felt solid enough, so it couldn't be too bad.

At length, she heaved herself up and groaned softly. The silence bothered her more than the pain. There were no voices, no hands, no roughness in the world to tell her the dwarves were nearby. Just cold, smooth, damp stone. A chill crept into her, and Billa wasn't sure if it was the temperature, or the loneliness. Stumbling a little, but using the wall to keep herself upright, the hobbit followed the tunnel cautiously, unable to see in the pitch dark. More than once she tripped and fell, scraping her knees and hands against the stone and finding more patches of dirt and damp slime than she had ever wanted to encounter.

On one of these unfortunate trips to the ground, she found more than just slick stone and slime. Something hard and round was buried in the dirt under her fingers. It felt like a made-thing, rather than a natural thing, and without a second thought, she picked it up, rubbing it clean even though she couldn't see it. It was a ring, about the right size for her slender fingers. The darkness prevented her from inspecting her find, but she had a feeling that it was very precious, somehow. Billa pocketed the ring, pushing herself to her feet. Something clattered against the stone, and she felt a tug at her belt- and she remembered that she had her sword. As she drew the blade, she noticed with a certain amount of dread that it glowed pale blue in the darkness.

* * *

Gollum grunted, stoving the hapless goblin's head in with a few brutal strikes of a sharp stone. He'd found the little squeaker wandering down the tunnel toward his cave earlier, and grabbed him from behind wearing _It_. The Precious. His precious Ring. He'd thought he had killed it then, but it must have revived somehow in the interim whilst he'd been dragging it out to his rock, his home sweet island out in the middle of his cool, subterranean lake.

It was a spacious cavern, even by goblin standards, lit only by the luminescent green glow of huge, spotted mushrooms and a few purplish crystals growing from the rocky ceiling, reflecting an eerie glow on the flat, heavy-looking lake.

Then Gollum saw something. Down the main tunnel a ways, where he'd caught his meal earlier. A faint, bluish light. It bounced a little, growing weaker, than vanished altogether.

Mingled fear and curiosity awoke in him, and he turned from the dead goblin to his little black boat. It was more of a hollow log, really. He'd stolen it from the goblins long ago, smuggled it back down here so he could get out to his island with greater ease. It rode low in the water as he paddled silently to shore, his large, flat feet making no ripples as he went. He lay on the boat, listening, his breath whistling quietly past his sharpened teeth.

Finally, he saw it. Illuminated purplish-green and walking hesitantly toward him. A creature unlike anything he'd seen in... well, maybe he'd never seen anything like it before at all. It was small like him, but stouter, and had a mop of curly, light hair on its head and large, fluffy feet. Its clothes seemed odd - fine, colorful - nothing like what grimy, utilitarian rags the goblins wore, and it held a strange shiny knife out in front of it like a shield, trembling in the creature's pale, delicate hands.

Gollum's curiosity trampled his fear. "What issss it, my precious?" he hissed, leaping out of the boat on all fours. "What issss it?"

Billa heard the hissing and slapping of Gollum's huge, wet hands and feet against the rock. Without the light of her sword, she was blind- or she'd thought so. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the weird light. Mushrooms that glow. The halfling caught herself wondering what they tasted like, and if they would go well with that garlic the elves had used- it was a touch strong for her taste, but strong flavors weren't a _bad_ thing.

"What issss it?"

Billa stiffened at the sound of a voice. "Who's there?" she all but shouted into the echoing cavern, terror thrilling through her, making it hard to focus.

_No. This was what Kili warned me about. If I give in to the fear, then I'll be useless._ Billa sucked in a deeper breath and tried to calm herself down. Movement attracted her attention and she swung her attention toward it. Her sword flashed in the semi-darkness, and so did something else. A pair of bulbous eyes, reflecting green-blue light, like a cat's.

_Don't panic. Don't panic. You're armed, you have a sword, you know how to use it. Mostly._

"Who are you?" she asked, taking a step back and angling her blade at Gollum's skinny chest.

Gollum hissed as the shiny metal jutted toward him. He hadn't seen anything like it before, so smooth, so clean, so shiny, so... dangerous. Everything here was rough, dirty, rugged. Familiar. Not this. This puzzled him, and while he was still curious, his wariness made a resurgence. He sat back on his haunches, his bony, knobby hands shooting up protectively to shield his emaciated chest.

"What isss it, Precious? It's not a goblinses, no. Not an orcses. It must tells us, Precious. What issss it?!" His luminous eyes bulged out angrily, as if Billa were intentionally withholding information he desperately needed.

"I'm... I'm a hobbit." Billa was confused by this skinny, slimy creature that seemed far more interested in talking to itself than talking to her. It did, however, talk rather than stuff her in a cage, break her bones, or threaten to eat her. That was a nice change of pace. "My name is Billa Baggins, of the Shire." The dwarves were definitely rubbing off on her. "Of the Shire" hadn't been a part of her name before now. She took a breath and gripped the hilt of her sword more tightly. Letter opener indeed. She would show them that size didn't matter, when one was sharp enough. That was rather good, actually. Should put that in a song.

"Now, it's your turn. Who are you?"

"Bagginses?" Gollum croaked to himself. "What isss a Bagginses, Precious?" He frowned, his already wrinkled brow wrinkling even more. "And what isss a hobbitses?" His eyes brightened a little. "Is it... tasty? Is it good to eats, Precious? We hasn't tried hobbitses, has we? We wonders, yes, we wonders." He skittered around behind Billa, moving on all fours like some kind of whitish frog, licking his pale lips and hissing through widely spaced fangs. Perhaps if he were quick enough, he'd confuse the creature and its shiny, gleaming sword would be of no use.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew there was something different about this creature, something even more different than what he'd already noticed. More different than its colorful clothes and fluffy head and feet. Something he had known about long ago, long ago and far away, back when he was something... some_one_ else. At the moment, just what that might be escaped him, but nonetheless, his curiosity was renewed. He'd find out just what the creature was... _then_ he'd eat it.

Billa's relief was short-lived. _Nope. Back to being threatened with eating again_. She pivoted, keeping an eye on the creature like Fili had taught her. Speed of the hand, speed of the mind. Focus on the opponent, not on your stance. Stance will do you no good if you don't see the attack coming.

"Quit talking in riddles," she snapped, working hard to suppress the fear that clawed at her chest. "I'm not interested in being your supper- or whatever time of day it is. I just want to get out of this horrid place." What good telling the creature would do, she had no idea, but silence was never her default when under pressure.

Gollum started at this. A particular keyword the creature had said awoke something within him akin to excitement. "Riddles?!" he crooned, leaping about like a dog at the prospect of going for a walk, and ignoring whatever else the hobbit might've said afterward.

It had been so many years, so many long years since he'd riddled with anyone that the mere mention sent a thrill of pure joy throughout his body. Long ago, as one of the River Folk, before the Precious had come, he had daily played at riddles with all his friends and family. He'd always fancied himself as being quite good at it, and now the thought of showing off to this creature resulted in nothing short of elation. "Oh, we _loves_ riddles. Does it wants to? Does it likes to play?" He cavorted about on the slimy rocks, cackling to himself, completely forgetting that he'd wanted to _eat_ the creature not a moment before. Well, that part of him was still there, actually. It just wasn't the most dominant part right now.

"We has one! We has one!" He paused a moment, grinning, his pale blue eyes gleaming with delight. "What has roots as nobody sees... Up, up, up it goes, and yet... never grows?"

Billa was hard-pressed to keep up with the creature's train of thought. Eventually, as Gollum waited expectantly for the answer, she pieced together the fractured sentences. And with the revelation that this slimy frog-thing was intelligent enough to speak with her, rather than just itself, there came a glimmer of opportunity.

"You want to play? Well... alright. Alright, let's play at riddles. But if I win- if I win, you lead me out. Deal?" She paused, thinking about the riddle. It was an old one. Digging for the answer took some time, but she found it. "Hills. No- mountains. There's your answer. Do we have a deal? I win, you lead me out of the mountain?"

Gollum's eyes became suddenly clever again, his tone lowered to the same sinister croaking he'd used before. He turned away, as if speaking in confidence with himself. "And if it loses, then what? Well, if it loses, Precious, then we eats it!" This latter sentence ended with a pleased cackle, and he turned again to Billa. "If the Bagginses loses, we eats it whole." He tilted his head with a pleased smile, as if this were quite a good arrangement and Billa should have no trouble at all agreeing to it.

Billa hesitated. "You might have some trouble with that," she commented, eyeing the creature's emaciated body, "but good luck. You win, I'll be lunch, I win, you lead me out." Lowering her sword, she puffed out her cheeks and thought carefully.

"Um, alright, here's one. 'Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.'" She edged toward the tunnel she'd entered through and leaned against a large rock, keeping a close eye on the creature. Riddles or not, she didn't trust it.

Gollum listened intently, running the words of the riddle through his addled brain like one might sift dirt again and again through a sieve, hoping to catch a nugget. At last, he made a connection. "Teeth? Teeeeeth!" He chortled triumphantly, seeing that he was right by the look on Billa's face. "But we only has... six!" He opened his mouth, flaunting them in all their hideous, grime-encrusted glory, then moved with a half-saunter to the other side of the hobbit. A sly smile crept onto his face. "Our turn. Alive without breath, cold as death, never thirsty, ever drinking, clad in mail, never clinking." His grin widened. The creature was _sure_ to be stumped by this one.

The sight of the creature's teeth repulsed Billa, and she tried not to gag. Wouldn't do to offend her opponent.

_Alive without breath..._ Unlike Gollum's first riddle, this was one she had never heard before. She frowned in concentration, shifting her weight from one furry foot to the other and pressing her back hard against the rock. Her knee ached and her head felt like there was a fire lit inside her skull.

"Give us the answer," taunted the frog-thing. When Gollum got too close, bulging eyes alight with excitement, she flinched and stumbled away from him, swinging her sword up so the pointy end was aimed at his chest again. With her eyes on him and her mind desperately running the words of the riddle through a list of water plants she was vaguely familiar with, she actually stepped into the icy water of the lake.

With a yelp, Billa jerked her foot out of the water again, her concentration completely broken. "Gimme a minute," she growled at the eager Gollum. "I need to think."

Gollum hissed at her, driven to great impatience by the taste of victory. "Is it crunchable? Is it juicy?" he asked, licking his lips again gleefully. "The Bagginses is stuck!"

"I'm thinking," Billa insisted, waving her sword at Gollum and taking another step back. Something writhed against her ankle in the icy water and the hobbit let out a squeal of disgust.

"It's just a fish," she assured herself. Gollum's outraged hiss brought her attention back to the riddle, and as she ran through it one more time, she started to grin. "Ha-ha! It's a fish. 'Alive without breath, as cold as death.' See? I told you I just needed a moment. Alright. My turn." The frog-creature was prowling around her now, muttering curses. She twisted to keep him in front of her, moving away from the water and trying to shake the damp out of her foot-hair.

"Um, well... uh- alright. 'A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.'"

Gollum paused, distracted by the new riddle. This one was a puzzler. Box. Key. Lid. Golden treasure. Gold. Gold? The Precious was gold. He grinned smugly to himself. Even if he lost the game, the Precious would still guarantee he had his meal. He'd never had anything gold _before _the Precious came. The only gold thing he could remember was... the sun. No, that wasn't it. Wait. His face lit up again.

"Eggses!" he exclaimed, dancing around Billa. "Wet, crunchy little eggses! Yes, yes!" He hadn't had them in so long, he'd almost forgotten their taste. When he'd calmed down a little, he scampered up a stone and crouched on his bony haunches. "Our turn. This thing all things devours- birds, beasts, trees, flowers. Bites iron, gnaws steel, grinds hard bones down to meal."

Billa actually sat down this time, her sword dangling between her knees as she gnawed on her lip. The silence was apparently too much for the impatient Gollum, who crept out of sight around dark rocks. His sing-song voice floated back to her, echoing creepily in the dim cavern.

"Is it tasty? Is it scrumptious?"

"Gimme a minute." Billa recognized the triumphant tone, and worked to suppress a thrill of fear. "I need to think."

"The Bagginses is ssstuck!" cackled Gollum, peering down at her from his unseen perch as she brought her sword up again.

"I'm not stuck!"

"It doesn't know the answers, Precious. It doesn't know."

"You haven't given me enough time." Billa snapped, fear getting the better of her as she searched desperately for the creature in the dark. "Give me more time!"

Gollum, mistaking Billa's words for the answer he'd sought, shook his fist furiously and howled up at the cavernous ceiling. "Very clever! Very clever, Bagginses!" He scrambled down from the rock, an unhappy frown etched into the deep lines of his pale face. "Last question, last chance." His voice was little better than a snarl now, so outraged was he that this tricksy creature had gotten his best riddle, the one that had always stumped his family and friends back home. "Ask us, Bagginses. It must asks us a last question!" When Billa paused, hemming and hawing a bit longer than Gollum's thinning patience could handle, he tensed, practically braying at her: "Ask us!"

Billa flinched away, patting down the front of her vest as though she had an extra riddle in her pocket. When her fingers encountered the right-hand pocket, rather than finding it empty, she realized there was something small between the layers of cloth. Distracted and frightened by the creature's furious screeching, she blurted out the first question that came to mind-

"What have I got in my pocket?"


	15. Chapter XV - Escape

_Fifteen_

The moment the words were out, Billa felt foolish. That wasn't a riddle at all. But before she could amend herself and ask a proper riddle, Gollum was hissing angrily at her.

"Not a fair question," he snarled.

Billa felt a stab of stubborn pride and, before she could think better of it, she snapped right back at him, flicking her sword toward his throat. "You asked for a question and you got one. What have I got in my pocket? Go on, guess."

Gollum leaned forward, his dark, stringy hair buffeted in the subterranean breeze coming off the lake. His teeth were bared now, and outrage leapt from his luminous eyes. "It's tricksy! The Bagginses is tricksy! It must gives us three guesses! Three! Gollum, gollum." When Billa agreed, Gollum racked his brain for the things a "hobbitses" might keep in its pockets. He came up short. Even back when he'd _had_ pockets, he didn't often use them. Well, not until the Precious came. That's when he used them, stealing from his family, his friends, taking their things for the sheer fun of it and stashing them away in his pocketses. But what might this creature have in _its_ pockets? Maybe it was a trick! The Bagginses was, after all, tricksy. "Handses!" Gollum blurted out on a whim.

"Nope! Guess again!" Billa wiggled her fingers impudently at him, grinning triumphantly. "Two chances left."

"Knife!" Gollum guessed, then practically kicked himself. It'd have to be a small knife to fit in _that_ pocket. When she again announced he was wrong, Gollum scrunched down into a ball, fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut. He _had_ to get this. He _had_ to win the game. What could it possibly have in its pockets?! Not the nasty, grimy things he kept on his little island, surely. This creature was too clean, too fine to have any of those sorts of trinkets and trophies. "String!" he cried, then realized the Bagginses may have had more than one trick answer in mind, and added, "or nothing."

"That was two guesses," scolded Billa cheerfully, very relieved to know that this particular encounter wasn't going to end with her being eaten. "And they're both wrong. I win! Now you have to lead me out of the mountain, like you promised." Gollum shrieked and hissed, seeming to lose what little sanity he'd had as he threw himself recklessly at the hobbit. Billa reacted swiftly, though not as well as she would have liked. With a yelp, she leapt backward and smacked the side of Gollum's boney head with the flat of her blade.

"You promised!" she reminded him shakily, trying to keep her emotions at a partial panic instead of letting them get out of control. "We made a deal. I won, so now you have to lead me out."

Gollum snarled, clutching the side of his head. The Bagginses was tricksy and sneaksy, and now she'd _trapped_ him into a promise. He had to, she said. "Does we, Precious?" he whispered thoughtfully, still rubbing his head. There as no blood. "Does we have to?" He rocked back and forth a moment, hissing to himself, as if still trying to process the fact that he'd lost the game.

Then he remembered. He hadn't lost. The Bagginses had tricksed him. The Bagginses hadn't won fairly. He smiled crookedly, reaching into the little pouch at his side, tied to the remnants of the ancient, nearly unrecognizable rags bound about his waist.

His smile faded. Where was it? Where had it gone? He had just used it, earlier. Not even an hour ago! He began to wail and scrabble about in the silty soil. "Where isss it?! Where isss it?!" he shrieked, flying into a panic. He thrashed about, searching wildly for the Precious.

His eyes landed on Billa, and he froze. "What _has_ it got in its nasty little pocketses, Precious? What?" His expression turned to one of unadulterated hatred and rage. "It _stole_ it... it STOLE it from ussss!" Now in a heedless frenzy, Gollum leapt toward the now fleeing hobbit, his fangs bared, his eyes like live coals bouncing down the dim tunnel after the thief who had _dared_ to steal the Precious. _His_ Precious.

Billa pelted back down the passage, ignoring the pain shooting up her leg, ignoring the war drums pounding in her head, ignoring the way her heart blocked her throat and made it hard to breathe. Before, she'd been too scared of getting lost down here to leave the filthy little frog creature behind, to try to find her own way out. Right now, getting lost seemed preferable to being torn apart by the crazed thing. He was pursuing her now, screeching about a 'precious' and how she'd stolen it from him. She hadn't the faintest clue what he was talking about, and the halfling didn't want to stick around to find out. That look of hatred, that pure, livid rage on his face- it was unlike anything she'd seen before.

Rocks scraped along her arms and shins in the darkness. Her sword clanged against the wall, throwing up sparks that cast fleeting light over her feet. Her feet, which were blessedly protected from the harsh stone by thick, curly hair and callouses that ran as deep as mountain-roots. Yet even her hardy little toes were protesting the abuse as she fled through the darkness, heedless of direction or aim, wanting only to get away from the wretched, howling creature that wanted her lifeblood to spill in its nasty, cold lake. One thought bugged her, though. One inane, nonsensical thought.

_What __**have**_ _I got in my pocket?_ As Billa thrust herself through a narrow gap and stumbled into a larger chamber, she paused to breathe and let her hand drop to her pocket. The shape was round and smooth. Circular. She pulled it out. It was a ring, just about the right size for her index finger. She remembered then, falling and picking it up, finding it in the tunnel, in the dirt and grime.

The hobbit heard a nasty shriek and turned in time to see the bulbous, glowing eyes of Gollum as he shot past the opening. Not wanting to drop the ring, she slipped it on and backed up, searching for the wall, pressing herself against the rough stone.

"Thief! Bagginses! Thief!" His desperate cries echoed after him, ringing off the stony walls and then fading into silence. He'd lost the Bagginses. The clever, tricksy Bagginses had gotten away with his Precious. "It must knows the way out," he moaned to himself. Billa's heart returned to its normal place in her chest and continued its frantic pounding. He'd missed her. But she couldn't afford to lose him completely. There was still the threat of being left alone in the dark, starving to death in these cursed tunnels. As silently as she could manage, with hardly more sound than a wisp of smoke on the breeze, she followed Gollum.

The miserable creature made it all the way to the end of the tunnel, where he could see, around a final corner, the door out of the Mountain. It was guarded. Six goblins stood between that chamber and the outside world. Bagginses would have to get past _them_ to escape, and past _him_ to get to them. He crouched a long while in the center of the passage, long, bony arms outstretched, pressed against the sides of the tunnel.

Billa eased herself along the wall, closer to Gollum. He wasn't moving. In fact, he didn't seem to detect her at all, even when she nearly dropped her sword and had to lurch forward to catch it, stop it making noise. It took several minutes, each an age long at least, but Billa eventually understood. Gollum couldn't see her. Either he was blind, or she was invisible. The former being obviously untrue, and the latter being unbelievable, she decided not to settle on a theory just yet.

When the Bagginses didn't appear after some twenty agonizing minutes, Gollum collapsed in a heap on the floor, pounding his fists in the dust, sobbing as loudly as he dared. So that was it. The Precious was lost forever.

He was on the floor, and Billa had several feet to get up some speed. She took a deep breath and made a flying leap over the creature's head. His long fingers snapped closed on thin air, just behind her hairy ankles. Gollum's outraged shrieks were getting the goblins very agitated. He couldn't enter the guard room, though, couldn't pursue Billa as she slipped through his grasp. Even in his horrified rage, he had sense enough left to understand his deadly peril, and as several of the goblin guards rushed into the passage, he turned away, bounding back down the tunnel, his screams of hatred and despair echoing after him. Should he live another thousand years, he'd never forget this. He would never forget the name of the one who took his Precious.

The goblins shambled around, searching for the source of the noise, and tiny Billa, unseen by all, engaged in the most terrifying game of Blind Man's Buff that she could have possibly imagined. One of the goblins actually tripped over her, and while he yelled at his companions, the halfling made it to the door. It was open just a crack, a thick, heavy, stone thing that looked as though it would have taken Dwalin and Gloin together to open it. She could smell fresh air.

"Oi, what'sat over by the door?"

"I see a shadow!"

"There's somethin' outside!"

Billa shoved herself frantically through the gap, pushing and squeezing. The buttons pinged violently off her vest as she forced herself through the crack, and not a moment too soon. Out the hobbit popped, into the open air and sunlight. She tumbled down the slope, dizzy with elation and lack of oxygen. She was _alive._


	16. Chapter XVI - Something Precious

_Sixteen_

Thorin had to shield his eyes against the dazzling sunlight when he and the Company came at last under the sky again, several of them wounded, most of them carrying looks of haunted relief. Kili staggered along beside Fili, supporting himself against his brother's shoulder. His eyes were shut again, his face drawn with pain where it was visible beneath the trailing strands of his sweat-damp hair. Gandalf urged them on down the rocky, forested hillside, and Thorin privately thought the wizard had bellowed at them to hurry so many times he was now deaf to any more such orders.

Finally, gasping for breath, the Company made it to a clearing amid the pines, where Gandalf called for a halt. "Gather yourselves together," he said, removing his pointed hat to smooth his now wild grey hair. "We can't linger here long; they'll be after us, sure as death."

Thorin stalked over to his nephews. Adrenaline had lent him additional stamina and ignorance to the pain of his injuries, but it was waning now, taking with it his remaining reserves of strength. "Fili, where's Billa? What happened to her?" There was something of a mournful look in Thorin's blue eyes, as though he feared the worst but was still clinging to some tiny hope the burglar would spring out from behind his nephews and begin scolding him for worrying about her.

Fili felt his legs trying to give out and sank to the cold earth. He couldn't stop the tears that gathered in his eyes. After several painful heartbeats, he shook his head. "I don't know." The admission felt like a lead weight on his tongue. "I haven't seen her since the cave."

"She was in the cage with us," said Bofur, looking vaguely panicked. "She must have been in the tunnels with us."

"I thought she was with you."

"I haven't seen her."

The dwarves were starting to bicker, though most of them were merely trying not to think about the price they'd just paid. Their burglar. Gone. Fili looked plaintively at Gandalf, holding his side and trying to breathe normally.

"We thought she might have followed you, wherever you vanished to."

The Wizard shook his head, looking equal parts grieved and confused.

"Billa, gone," Gandalf said, and sighed heavily. "An ill turn, indeed."

Thorin lowered his head, bitter regret stirring within. He couldn't help feeling as though he'd just lost something terribly valuable, terribly dear. Wasted something that should never have been risked in the first place. _I should have watched her myself._

"I warned you, Gandalf," he growled in the Wizard's direction. "I warned you nothing good would come of this. Now she's gone, and no conjuring you can do will bring her back."

He remembered his words to Gandalf on the night he'd met Billa. He'd let the wizard know quite distinctly that he'd not be held responsible for whatever might happen to the halfling. Didn't matter now. The dwarf felt _very_ responsible.

Gandalf shook his head again and turned away. It seemed he was having trouble believing the plucky halfling lass was actually gone. So much for his foresight.

Kili was sitting next to his brother now, feeling rather raw. He swept his hair out of his eyes, and the gesture irritated the wounds on his arms. He winced, glancing at Oin, who was tending his brother. He could wait. Whatever he'd faced in the goblin tunnels, he knew he'd gladly suffer it again if Billa were still alive... if he didn't have to see Uncle standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, looking vacantly off into the distance as though he'd lost the will to go on.

"So... what do we do now?" Bofur looked expectantly at Gandalf, who didn't answer immediately. Balin provided the answer all of them already knew, and none of them wanted to say.

"We go on without her. One burglar more or less can't stop us." The grandfatherly dwarf looked as grieved as the rest of them. Fili gasped as pain lanced through his chest like fire, and the tears that had wet his eyes now wet his cheeks as well. He cursed himself and every higher power he could think of in Khuzdul, his undertone carrying well to his brother and the healer, but not much further. Oin pulled his tunic back down over the bandages and Fili bowed his head.

"I should have been watching." Fili wished he could take it all back, relive the battle with Tog, take his brother's punishment, save Billa. He'd failed.

"Watching what?" A female voice startled another curse from Fili, who nearly gave himself whiplash looking for the source of the voice. Billa stumbled out of the trees, limping badly and scraped raw in several places, but blessedly, miraculously alive. "What's the matter with you lot? You look like you'd seen a-"

"BILLA!" Bombur nearly bowled her over as he caught her in a tight hug. "You're alive!"

"What-? Of course I'm alive!" Billa squirmed, looking surprised, yet gratified by the fat dwarf's exuberance.

Kili was the next to get to her. As dirty, blood-encrusted, and sore as he was, he enveloped the startled halfling in a hug and picked her up, laughing in unrestrained relief. "Oh, Billa. You have no idea what you just about did to us. I practically shed a tear." He grinned, setting her back down. "Don't worry, though. Fili's more than compensated for my dry eyes."

Thorin took a few steps closer, looking more perplexed than relieved. There were still shades of the mournfulness he'd experienced a moment before, as though he wasn't quite ready to believe the halfling was back, safe and sound. "Miss Baggins," he said, and the rest of the Company grew momentarily quiet, "I am glad to see you alive, against all hope. May I ask, though, how you managed to escape the tunnels after being separated from us? It seems highly... improbable." His words hung in the air a moment, made it seem suddenly tense.

All eyes were now on Billa again.

Billa seemed almost as perplexed as Thorin was. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. It involved a lot of running, and encounters with creatures I'd really rather not think about ever again." Her eyes grew wide with a look of almost comical disbelief. "I had no idea goblins were that _big._" Fili broke the silence with a weak laugh. Whatever might have followed was cut off by Gandalf, who looked just as grave as ever, though he spared a fond glance for the halfling.

"We must move as soon as possible. The goblins won't be letting their prize go as easily as we might hope."

Oin scowled and muttered about being rushed, but he worked more quickly on Kili. "Hold still, you rascal," he grunted, dealing the dark-haired youngster a sharp smack to the back of his head before returning to tying bindings about his ribs.

Thorin frowned a little, but decided to accept the burglar's explanation for now. Now that he thought about it, he felt rather foolish for overreacting, for being so distraught about nothing. Disliking the way his mind had been turned, he refocused it on leading his Company.

"Hurry with Kili. We need to move."

Ori handed Kili a stick to bite down on while Oin worked. The old healer's hands moved quickly, efficiently, providing what comfort they could, but there were some cuts that would require suturing and there wasn't time for that now. This done, the group limped on down the hill, proceeding as quickly as they dared, trying not to lose their footing on the rough, gravel-like lava rocks. They'd not gone ten minutes before the familiar, dismaying howls and barks of wargs fell hard on their ears. As if things weren't already bad enough. Had the dwarves been healthy and whole, Billa might have been hard-pressed to keep up with them. As it was, they limped and stumbled along together. The wargs grew ever nearer as Gandalf hurried them along- right to the edge of a steep cliff. The Wizard looked temporarily dismayed, an unsettling expression to see on the face of their all-knowing guide.

"To the trees!" Gandalf shouted. "Up into the trees! Climb!" It was Gloin, Dwalin, Thorin and Nori that held the rear once again as the others scrambled up the trees, helping one another as much as they could. Billa was actually picked up and tossed into the branches of a scraggly fir, a most undignified experience, but not one she cared to argue about.

The wargs and their riders burst into view before the Company was safely out of reach. Dwalin bellowed at Thorin to climb like the fool he was, before burying one of his twin axes in a warg's furry throat.

Thorin directed a distinctly stubborn look at Dwalin that said he wasn't going up until everyone else was safe, so the tattooed dwarf grunted resignedly and heaved himself up into the nearest pine, just as Orcrist clove the head of another warg at his feet. Thorin quickly slid the gore-spattered blade into its scabbard and turned to a nearby tree. An arrow skipped off the ground near his toecaps, and another whizzed past his head. He'd just levered himself up into the second branch when something like fire stabbed through his inner arm just above the bracer. He yelped and nearly lost his hold on the branch, but continued climbing, gritting his teeth against the pain. He knew he'd been hit, but other than the nuisance of it all, it wasn't lethal. He made it about midway up the tree, balanced himself astride a branch, and held the arrow so he could snap it off near the entry point.

Gandalf was looking at him, concerned, and Thorin nodded. He was alright, all things considered. The wargs had halted their advance, strangely enough. Whatever relief this may have engendered died as suddenly as it had been born when the reason for their behavior became apparent.

A figure was approaching through the shadows of the trees, something tall, broad, eerily white in the gloaming. As it drew nigh, it separated out into two figures, a pale orc, riding a white warg.


	17. Chapter XVII - Through the Flames

_A/N: Over 100 follows! Thank-you, thank-you! You guys are all wonderful. Thanks also to all of you who have been reviewing. We love hearing your feedback. Enjoy this next chapter. _

_Seventeen_

Horror pervaded Thorin's features, for while he'd been prepared by the Goblin King for the notion that Azog the Defiler was alive, seeing it borne out in reality was quite another thing. "It cannot be," he whispered.

"The scent of fear lies heavy on you, Thorin son of Thrain," the Pale Orc hissed through a fanged grin. "I remember your grandfather was the same."

Thorin glowered. "I do not fear you, fiend. If there is cowardice upon this place, perhaps it lies in _your_ craven heart." His voice was heavy with age-old hatred, with lust for vengeance. This creature had slain his grandfather, driven his father mad.

Fili was, to be honest, in too much pain to focus on much of anything. He did, however, catch on to the fact that the pale blur on the ground below them was an orc. Well, an orc on a warg. Whatever. Thorin was talking to it. Why he bothered was a little beyond the blond dwarf's ability to understand at the moment, but he trusted that his uncle was doing what was best for them.

It was then that the tree started to shudder under him. The wargs were throwing themselves at the trunk, leaping and snarling at the lower branches. He noticed with a thrill of terror that Billa seemed to be stuck, several branches below him, dangling precariously from a twisted fork in the trunk where she must have been perched before. Now she was jerking her hairy feet up and out of the reach of slavering jaws in a sort of horrific dance.

"Hold on!" Thorin roared over the sound of snapping limbs and splintering bark. "Gloin! Grab Billa!" He'd just noticed her precarious position. The ginger-haired dwarf tried, but he already had two wargs intent on catching hold of his foot, and was hard pressed to hold on himself against the shuddering of the tree as the other beasts rammed their massive bulks against its trunk.

Thorin cursed, working his way down to the branch below. He scraped the protruding arrow shaft against a limb as he went, and practically bit his tongue off keeping quiet. When he was within reach of the halfling, a branch above her, he snatched her up by the back of the collar and one of her legs, lifting her into the branch above him, nearly falling in the process.

Then the unthinkable happened. The entire tree began to tilt toward the cliff, a slow, trembling descent. The pine had been a young, thin one to begin with, and its moorings were shallow, hindered by rock and silty soil.

Thorin's face paled, and the deep, pleased laughter of Azog carried over the noise of roots straining and cracking out of the ground. "Hold!" the dwarf urged, gripping a branch with one hand, his burglar's wrist with the other. They were heading straight for another pine right on the edge of the cliff. This one was larger, and seemed sturdier. At any rate, they had no choice. "On my mark, jump!"

Billa whispered an oath she must have picked up from the dwarves, because no one in the Shire ever used language like _that._ She'd never been particularly good at climbing to begin with, preferring to keep her feet on the ground when she could. When Thorin yelled to jump, she closed her eyes and trusted that he wouldn't throw her to the wolves. The irony of that thought wouldn't impress her until much, much later.

Gandalf, perched in the higher branches, had started to lob flaming pinecones down at the wargs. One particularly sappy pinecone, burning lividly blue, smacked an orc in the face, and he fell off his mount with a howl of pain.

"Is this how you plan to die, Dwarf?" taunted Azog, his deep voice carrying all too well over the barks and bays of the frenzied wargs. "Burning to death, cowering in a tree? I thought you were better than that. Apparently, I was wrong."

Thorin turned back to the orc, and it was immediately clear his taunts had had something of their desired effect. Gandalf's flaming projectiles had kindled the dry brush around the pines, and even now blue and green fire glinted in Thorin's gaze as it met Azog's. The dwarf exchanged a glance with Gandalf that told him all he needed to know. They were trapped. Even now, the fire that was keeping the wargs at bay was licking up the trunks of the pines. They would burn. There was nothing to be done; not even the wizard could save them this time. Unless…

Thorin turned again to Azog. "And yet, even so, it would deny you the satisfaction you crave." He smirked. "You long to defeat me in clean battle, Defiler. To watch me burn with my Company is not enough, is it?"

Azog tilted his scarred face a little, intrigued by what his foe seemed to be proposing. "What do you mean, dwarf-scum?"

"Just this," said Thorin. "Send your wargs away, and let my Company go where they will. In exchange, I will fight you as you desire, and your victory – if it is claimed – will be true. Refuse me, and I will gladly burn with the rest while you watch. You'll have no satisfaction. The hand I took from you will be mine forever, as will this shield of oak with which I bested you that day." Thorin released Billa's wrist and pulled back the trim of his coat, revealing the Oakenshield in its leather frog at his side. Then, seeing the look of snarling rage on Azog's face, he smiled contemptuously, drawing it out and raising it triumphantly to the sky.

"To burn with my people would honor me. Will you give me that honor, Defiler?"

"No, Uncle!" Fili's pained cry carried over the crackling of the fire, the baying of the wargs. He wasn't the only one, either. A chorus of protests rose from the others. Only Balin and Dwalin remained silent. They knew Thorin too well to speak against this plan of his, a plan that could save their lives, or at least give them a fighting chance. The tree Thorin was in was beginning to lean dangerously toward the precipice, and while the dwarf king swayed deftly to keep his balance, Azog barked an order in his own guttural tongue. The wargs were pulled back, restrained by their handlers in spite of their bloodthirsty howls.

"Face me, dwarf-scum," the Pale Orc spat. "Face your death."

"Thorin, no!" Billa was clinging to the trunk as it swayed, sagging toward the edge.

"My people leave first." Thorin's voice was remarkably steady for a dwarf on the threshold of death, clinging to the boughs of a lurching tree.

Azog nodded, impatient, revenge-mad. He cared nothing for the others. They wouldn't make it far anyway. Right now, he'd comply with Oakenshield's demands for the opportunity to end the dwarf himself, to separate his proud head from his body, to bask in the knowledge that he had personally ended the line of Durin.

Thorin gestured violently at the others. "Get down! Quickly. All of you." The smoke was thick and choking now, and the pale orc difficult to make out through the haze.

Fili and Kili were still protesting vehemently that they would not leave their Uncle. Thorin rounded on them.

"Do as I say! Sister-sons or not, you will obey my orders. Get the others to safety, and do not look back."

The dwarves were jumping down now, bounding through the flames, patting themselves out even as they ran. Dwalin directed a look at Thorin that meant he was doing this only very begrudgingly; he understood there was no other choice that wouldn't be the immediate death of the weak and wounded, while accomplishing nothing. Then he, too, disappeared down through the acrid, blue-tinged cloud.

Gandalf was the last, besides Billa, to go. Thorin handed the struggling halfling into the wizard's arms across the gap between the trees. He ignored her jabs at his sanity, her pleas, whatever other words she spoke in a last-ditch effort to dissuade him.

"Valar protect you, Thorin Oakenshield," came the wizard's grave voice. He sighed, nodding, undisguised admiration in his old eyes, before scrambling spryly down the tree and leaping through the smoke and flames, the long hem of his robe blazing at his heels. The hobbit writhed in his arms, screaming protests that were soon lost in the roar of the fire.

The Pale Orc was waiting impatiently for Thorin to join him on the ground, growling insults in an undertone while the wargs went all but insane with their desire to rend dwarf-flesh. When at last the dwarf-king dropped to the earth, Azog wasted little time. Kicking his white warg forward, he made a swing at Thorin's head, roaring as he went.

"The gift of death," he snarled, as Thorin barely managed to deflect the blow that would have separated his head from his neck, "is all I've ever owed you and your filthy kin."

Thorin grunted, recovering from the narrow escape, his lungs still thick with smoke, his eyes burning. He lurched further from the flames, towards the clearer air, Orcrist reflecting the glinting yellow eyes of a warg as its fangs snapped near his ear, just missing as he shrank away in time, slicing the beast's hindquarters as it passed. There was a howl of pain, and the warg staggered, shuffling sideways, trying to regain its balance while keeping weight off its wounded thigh.

Thorin fell back into the familiar rhythm of battle, throwing himself at the pale orc and just managing to evade the mace swing meant for his face. Orcrist described a blur through the ashy air, cleanly severing the warg's front paw. Another keen of pain rent the sky, soaring above the greedy crackling of the blaze beyond, and the white beast collapsed, whimpering and twisting and curling in on itself. Unfazed, Azog dismounted in one fluid motion, fangs bared as he leapt for Thorin.

The dwarf bounded back, turning aside at the last second, deflecting the orc's mace off the Oakenshield and retaliating with a quick slash. Azog was more agile than his hulking form suggested, springing aside, quick as a huge cat.

The orc roared, lunging again, and Thorin, hindered as he was by exhaustion, pain, and the effects of the smoke, was only partially successful in evading the mace this time. The dwarf ducked back, quickly enough to save his face from being taken off, but not quickly enough to avoid a graze. The strike was stunning, and he staggered, a wash of blood slicking down his forehead, practically blinding him in one eye. The next mace hit caught him in the brigandine, which spared him instant death, but not the shock of the blow. He was thrown to the ground by the unyielding power in the giant orc's swing, and Orcrist dropped from his fingers.

He lay a moment on the cold, stony earth, gasping, praying he'd at least given the others enough time to get away, a chance to live. Fili would make a worthy king, given the opportunity. Fili would complete the venture he'd failed, reclaim Erebor, restore honor to the House of Durin. A thousand thoughts and regrets and memories blazed through his mind as the Pale Orc loomed over him, backlit against the fiery trees beyond, his scarred face fixed in a fanged grin of triumph.

Azog basked in the glory of Thorin's pain and imminent defeat. He didn't need to gloat in words. There was enough said in the silence between them. Thorin reached for his sword, but the Pale Orc stepped lazily on his forearm, grinding his heel between the stout bones and threatening to break them with his hulking weight. A low laugh escaped Azog's lips as he lifted his mace for the death-blow, his eyes alight with manic glee.

There was no impact. No war-cry. No flash of blinding light. Thorin's eyes were closed, braced for the death that would crush him and end his part in this Quest. But all he heard was a low, pained grunt. Suddenly, the weight left his arm. The sound of stumbling footsteps could barely be made out over the roar of the fire, and as the dwarf king opened his eyes, he saw a small, curly-haired shape standing over him, holding a dagger rigidly in shaking hands, teeth bared in feral rage.

"TRY THAT AGAIN!" Billa screamed, and a dark trickle of blood stained the edge of her little blade. Azog drew his hand across his ribs, and it came away dark with the same blood. He roared, sanity lost. He swung his mace, but Billa was gone. Azog followed through with his swing, only for a new cut, deeper than the first, to open along his left thigh. The orc let out a roar of pain and half collapsed, hand covered in hot blood. The wargs couldn't be controlled any longer. They plunged forward, snarling and biting, but now more forms were bursting through the flames. Fili and Gloin, Dwalin and Nori, Balin and Oin and Dori. The Company leapt into the fray, though none of them seemed to notice Azog retreating into the smoke, clutching at his wounded leg.

The fight – if it could be referred to as such – lasted but a few moments. Without their leader to rally them, the warg riders fell into disarray, a few fleeing outright, most staying reluctantly behind, aware that if Azog learned of their retreat, he would kill them himself. In the end, their loyalty was for naught. The piercing shrieks of great eagles joined the battle cries of the furious dwarves, and the remaining wargs and their riders were seized up in mighty talons and hurled to violent death on the jagged rocks of the valley below. It seemed Gandalf was not entirely without resources after all.

Kili knelt at Thorin's side, stricken, trying not to look at the ghastly, bloody gash in his forehead, the pale, still face. "I shouldn't have left," he whispered. "I failed you, Uncle."

Billa somehow managed to keep her sword, despite the way her hand shook and her fingers threatened to lose all strength. She could see Kili and Gandalf, now Fili also, clustered around Thorin. With the Eagles' help, there was hardly anything left to fight. She stumbled over to them, her heart in her throat.

"Thorin," she croaked, voice hoarse from smoke and screaming.

"No time," Gandalf said gravely. He pushed the brothers back, looking upward. One of the great birds dropped from the sky, scooping up the unconscious dwarf in its massive talons. He looked like such a fragile thing. Billa knew, even as the thought occurred to her, that it was ridiculous. And yet, the fear remained.

"Don't you dare," she whispered, watching the Eagle loft away with him. "Don't die, Thorin."


	18. Chapter XVIII - Regrouping

_Dearest Reviewers,_

_Elle here. :) You've been a huge encouragement to us, and we read and cherish every single reply we get. Special thanks to Anime Princess, UKReader, and Just4Me for their constructive reviews. Also thanks to our guest reviewers. I wish I knew who you were so I could thank you properly. _

_Eighteen_

The flight with the Eagles was quite the most terrifying experience Billa had the power to remember. Dangling from Ori's legs as he was carried in the talons of one of the huge birds, Billa kept her eyes screwed tight shut and clung to her companion for dear life. It was bad enough that she'd been the one to lead the charge back into the midst of an orc pack. Now she'd been nearly left behind in all the fuss with these friends of Gandalf's. Eagles. What a strange set of friends. Not that she was complaining.

When they were set down on the peak of an enormous spur of rock, the dwarves took advantage of the isolation to lay about and recover. Well, most of them did. Fili and Kili were hovering over Thorin's still form, and Oin was trying to shoo them away. And Dwalin...

"_What_ in the name of Arda did you think you were _doing?_" The tattooed dwarf loomed over her threateningly, an ax in one hand and the other reached for the front of her buttonless vest. Billa batted his hand away with a scowl, too tired and hurting too much to back down.

"What do you _think_ I was doing? Saving his sorry hide from being torn to pieces!"

"That wasn't your choice to make," roared the hulking warrior. Dwalin looked like he might very well cleave her head from her shoulders, but a flicker of surprise registered on his face as the little hobbit struggled to her feet and screamed right back at him.

"Maybe I wasn't _spineless_ enough to roll over and watch him _DIE!_"

"_Spineless?_" choked Dwalin, fist clenching around the haft of his ax.

"Yes, spineless," Billa spat, surprising him again by gripping the pommel of her little knife, as though getting ready to draw and fight him. "Or has all that ink in your head started to affect your hearing?" As impressed as Dwalin might have otherwise been by the halfling's bravery, he was too livid to care. He was actually halfway through drawing his ax back to strike at her when two voices stopped him.

"Dwal!" That one was his brother. Balin would be frowning at him severely if that tone was anything to go by.

"Billa." That was Thorin. Oin was trying to persuade him to stay lying down while he tended the gash on his leader's forehead, but the stubborn dwarf was struggling to sit up anyway. Billa whirled to face him, knife in hand. The blade touched his chest, and suddenly the Company went very still and serious. As fond of their burglar as they were, if she threatened their king...

"And _you,_" she hissed, forcing Thorin to lay down with the point of her sword digging into his leather armor. "You selfish, bone-headed son of a cave-troll. Going off to die for the sake of some stupid feud- your bloodlust nearly left us leaderless. Then what, Thorin? Where would we be? Flapping around like a headless chicken, that's where!"

Fili was looking highly insulted by now, both by the cave-troll comment, and now the leaderless remark. As though he were completely incapable.

"Billa," rumbled Gandalf, and the halfling turned to glare at the Wizard, who was peacefully smoking his pipe as though nothing were wrong. "Put your sword away. You're among friends." After a tense moment, she complied. The halfling's hands were shaking. By the time the blade was sheathed, so was the rest of her. She sank down to sit on the rock and looked at Thorin, her eyes conspicuously wet.

"You could've _died._"

Thorin shoved Oin's hands away, pushing himself up, wincing as his bruised ribs gave him grief. The pain in his chest was intense, and was making breathing difficult.

"Miss Baggins," he growled, his blue eyes flashing, "call me what names you will, but what I did was not foolish. It was necessary, and I am honored to have done it. What you did, however," he cringed again, taking another painful breath, coughing a little, "was lunacy! Pig-headed, idiotic, lunacy! You could've all been killed, rushing in like that after I'd ordered you all to get to safety." He saw Billa was about to protest, and cut her off. "Why didn't you follow my orders?"

This question seemed directed at the entire Company, and the emotion behind it was hard to pinpoint. Wasn't he _happy_ to be alive, to still be in a position to lead the quest? There seemed to be something else driving his anger and frustration, something not immediately obvious. Perhaps even to him.

"Because unlike _some people,_" Billa snapped, much quicker to answer than the others, "I don't let my friends die, simply because they think it's the right thing to do." She dashed away a stray tear and took a shaky breath, looking away from him. "Call it what you like, but I don't regret saving your life, _Your Highness._" There was an odd combination of venom and grief in her tone. The others jumped in then, Fili and Kili the loudest and most insistent. There seemed to be a hundred and one justifications for their actions, and each dwarf was eager to prove he hadn't been disobeying or dishonoring, just... helping. Dwalin seemed torn, twisting his hands around his ax haft and scowling at the halfling. Balin sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Enough. That's ENOUGH." Startled silence fell over the Company, and all eyes turned on Balin. "What's done is done, and no amount of arguing or name-calling will change it. Tend to your hurts, lads. We have a long way to go yet, and not much time to get there."

Thorin lay down again, suppressing a groan of pain, letting Oin finish what he'd started. The arrow in his forearm had to remain as it was until they had access to clean, fresh water. Removing it now would only be like pulling a cork from a bottle, and the wound left behind would require cleansing before it could be bound, or risk deadly infection. It wasn't pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, though, and the skin around it was inflamed and swelling. At least the point had passed through; the sharp iron tip was faintly visible pricking up through the top of his bracer.

Once Thorin's head injury had been tended and he'd had a few minutes to rest, he rallied his remaining strength into getting up again. He was too proud to ask for help, but Dwalin was immediately at his side, and supported the dark-haired dwarf to his feet. Even the simple action of breathing was nearly unbearable, but only a faint tremble and a frown revealed how sore he was as he joined the others at the overlook, where the Lonely Mountain rose up eminently in the distance, a hazy blue, veiled in mist.

Billa was standing there, and her face said she'd not dismissed any of the previous conversation, but was mulling it over, stewing. Thorin's frown deepened. A life-debt – even if he disagreed with it – was nothing to dismiss. She had saved him. And as embarrassing as that was, he was honorable enough at least to recognize that some expression of gratitude was in order.

"Miss Baggins," he said quietly, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I'm afraid I… I've been unappreciative… of your service to me." The words were sticking in his throat for some reason, and that puzzled him. "Thank-you. For your act of courage."

Billa stood quietly under his hand, her expression conflicted. In some ways, she was too proud to admit that what she'd done might not have been 'honorable.' In other ways, she was too embarrassed to tell him the truth. The truth the burned at the back of her throat, and made her avert her eyes.

"Courage? Is that what that was?" She huffed softly, shaking her head. "I barely remember. I was... scared. Scared of taking action, scared of doing nothing. All I knew, all I _really_ knew... was that I couldn't let you die. Suppose that makes me the selfish one, doesn't it?" The halfling turned her head slightly, studying his face as though trying to memorize it. There were still angry lines around her mouth and eyes, but it wasn't directed at him. More than anything, she just looked tired. Billa sighed, shifting her weight off her aching leg. By then it had become a constant, dull pain that flared into angry, sharp spikes whenever she moved or put weight on it. Oin would probably be upset when he found out, but right now, there were others that were bleeding that needed his attention more. She could wait.

"We are beyond the reach of the goblins for now," Gandalf said quietly, and Billa was surprised to see the Wizard standing nearby. "But we need a proper camp for the night. With luck, we can reach a safe place tomorrow evening, and recover there while we plan our next move."

Thorin nodded. "Let's go." He turned from the overlook, and the others, reluctantly tearing their gazes from the murky peak in the distance that was their ancestral home, followed. They proceeded down a number of switchbacks until they'd reached the valley floor below, and Thorin certainly wasn't the only one practically collapsing with exhaustion and pain when at last the ground evened out, advancing into a moonlit grassland dotted with stands of pines and various deciduous trees.

He led the Company as swiftly as he could manage, gritting his teeth, forcing himself on, and before an hour had passed, they reached a swiftly flowing stream where they were able to fill their empty water casks (they had only two left, because they'd been tied at Nori and Oin's belts, and hadn't been lost with the other supplies in the goblin tunnels). Thorin half-sat half-fell into a patch of sweet-grass at the edge of the water, hatefully accepting that he was too weak to go on any longer without rest.

Oin moved quickly to his side, and though Thorin insisted he was alright, just tired, the old healer prevailed upon him and was allowed to treat his unenthusiastic patient. The arrow had to be removed, and it wasn't going to be a pleasant procedure.

"Chew some of this," Oin urged, handing Thorin a packet of herbs. Thorin glanced at him skeptically, but ultimately complied. The healer aided Thorin in unstrapping the bracer, but since the arrowhead was firmly lodged in its boiled leather underside, Oin had to carefully support the arm and remove the bracer – and the arrow shaft – simultaneously.

Thorin wasn't altogether aware of what oaths and curses might have escaped him, nor would he have particularly cared if he _had_ been aware. Once the wound was cleansed and an astringent applied, Oin bound it tightly. Picking up the bracer, he frowned at the splintery, red-stained arrow shaft and its rusty point.

"That's an infection waiting to happen. Pray Mahal I'm wrong."

Thorin didn't seem terribly concerned. He retrieved the bracer from Oin, levered the arrow out of it, and proceeded to buckle it back on.

The healer wasn't finished. "I'll need to check your ribs now." He reached for Thorin's coat, but the dwarf pushed his hands off.

"See to my nephews," he said, nodding at the pained-looking Fili and Kili. "I can wait."

The night was a long one. Oin's eyes were tired and the light was fading fast. It wasn't long before Ori and Billa were volunteering to help him, and the old healer reluctantly agreed. They worked busily, stitching gashes shut, cauterizing cuts, cleaning and bandaging and treating as Oin instructed them. Billa looked fit to pass out when they were finished, and Oin insisted on checking her leg- at which point he threw up his hands in defeat.

"How am I supposed to see my patients well again," he demanded heatedly, "if they refuse to admit when they're hurting?"

"Why are you grumbling at _me?_" Billa asked tiredly, indicating Thorin. "His ribs still need treating, and you already know how hurt my leg is."

Ori was trying to convince Thorin to let him look at his ribs. Their stoic leader, while obviously in pain, seemed rather unimpressed with the young dwarf's attempts at persuasion. Oin sighed.

"If I see you on your feet again before morning, I'll see you _carried_ to the Lonely Mountain on a stretcher."


	19. Chapter XIX - Unusual Concern

_Nineteen_

The morning came too soon, the ground was too hard, the air was too cold. Oin insisted they all make at least a cursory effort at being clean, and so it was that the Company set out later than usual, stiff, in pain, cold and wet. The day didn't get any better. Kili was having a hard time keeping up, and it seemed Thorin would need to be hit over the head with something heavy and blunt before he willingly took a rest for his own sake.

The halfling, with her shorter legs and pronounced limp, had to be carried at intervals so she could stay with the group. She grumbled, but allowed Nori to carry her, perched on his back like a monkey. It was mid afternoon when they heard the first of the deep howls. Wargs. The Pale Orc, though incapacitated, didn't seem to be giving up on catching them. The foothills were cursedly rough going, but full of narrow valleys and thick stands of hardy pine trees. Excellent places to hide, and also excellent places to get cornered and killed.

Thorin led them into a sheltered dell, and Billa scrambled up the steep, rocky hillside. As the smallest and quietest, she was the obvious choice to scout ahead, even if her pace wasn't as quick as Thorin might have liked. When she returned, she was flushed with a combination of fear and breathlessness.

"Bad news," she started, and was almost immediately interrupted.

"They saw you?" Gloin had his ax in hand, peering suspiciously up the hillside.

"What? No. I-"

"See? What did I tell you?" Gandalf chuckled as relieved sighs swept through the Company. "Quiet as a mouse."

"Would you listen to me?" Billa was bouncing impatiently on the spot, which made her leg hurt something terrible. "There's something _else_ out there." The dwarves fell quiet.

"What kind of something?" Gandalf's tone was hushed. "Was it an animal? Perhaps, in the shape of a great bear?"

"Yes, and it-" Billa blinked. "Wait, how did you know that?"

"Never mind _how_ I know," said Gandalf, flapping a hand dismissively, turning to Thorin. "There's a house not far from here where we might take refuge, and have some time to rest and recover before moving on. I don't know why I didn't think of it before."

"Whose house?" said Thorin, warily. With the wizard, nothing was as it seemed. The place might very well belong to a friendly troll or a family of affable talking badgers, for all he knew.

The sound of their pursuers grew ever louder as the wargs drew nearer.

"No time for that," said Gandalf, turning. "We must move with all speed."

"Are they friend or foe?"

"No time for that either! Hurry!"

Running. Why was it always running? The injured among them pressed themselves as hard as they could, helping each other along over the rough, rocky terrain. When they broke clear of the trees, it became apparent that the wargs were keeping their distance, though there was no obvious reason why. Their howls resounded in the shallow valley, echoing off the surrounding hills like the tolling of a pack of death bells. But as they ran, hurried on by the Wizard, a new sound came to them. The crashing of giant paws, the growling of an enormous beast.

"There!" Gandalf gestured with his staff. Across the meadow ahead, there was another copse of hardy trees, and in their midst, a long, low house, half hidden by a thick hedge. "Hurry!"

Billa had fallen to the back of the group. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to make her legs move any faster. The pain in her knee had started as short, sharp needles, and had now taken on delusions of becoming one with the sky, shooting lightning bolts down to her ankle and up to her hip. When she fell, it was Dwalin that noticed. With a low curse, he turned back and scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It was from this lovely, jarring position, her head and shoulders hanging across Dwalin's broad back, that she saw what it was they were running from.

It had been a glimpse, earlier. A fleeting look at an enormous silhouette on a neighboring hillside. Now she saw him all too well. The bear was huge, at least the size of one of the Eagles, possibly larger. A mass of wild black fur and flexing, surging muscle, wicked, curved claws and long, jagged white teeth. It crashed through the trees and into the open, no more than a half mile behind them.

"Eru save us," the halfling gasped. A trickle of cold dread had turned into a torrent of fear. Was this what they had come all this way for? Was this how they were going to die? The bear was pounding through the grass behind them, snarling deep in his thick, furry throat. Then, suddenly, there was a hedge in the way.

Dwalin tore through the garden and into the house, the last one in before the others heaved the door shut with barely a second to spare. The bear hit the door and it shuddered, but held.

"What in the name of the Seven Sleepers was that?" Bofur's exclamation was taken up by the others, and they turned to Gandalf for the answer. The Wizard pursed his lips and pulled his long pipe from an inside pocket of his robe.

"That," he said carefully, filling his pipe and lighting it without any apparent need of matches, "was our host."

Thorin looked at the wizard as though he'd grown a third eye. "That beast? _That_ was our host? Are you mad, Gandalf?"

"No more than usual," said the wizard, smirking behind his grey beard, puffing a ring of smoke. "His name is Beorn, an old acquaintance of mine. A kindly soul, though fonder of animals than other creatures. He's a skin changer."

If any of the dwarves weren't looking at Gandalf before, they were now. Oin frowned at his battered ear trumpet, and Ori looked as though the very thought of a creature that could change its skin might make him faint dead away.

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked, presently. "Skin-changer? Does the beast wear another skin beneath its fur?"

Gandalf snorted a little, pacing away across the straw floor. "You'll find out soon enough, if you can't figure it out on your own."

Thorin raised his dark eyebrows, shook his head. A pox on the dratted wizard and his riddles.

This house was unnervingly large. Thorin felt like a dwarfling standing beside the table, the flat top of which was even with his eyes. There was a tankard sitting on the honey-colored boards big enough to sate three dwarves at least, and a plate the size of a small, round shield.

Even the animals that were lodging within were giant. There were two massive, horned oxen with brass rings in their noses standing, chewing their cud near the door, and Thorin noticed a bee the size of a small bird alighting on Billa's curly head. He opened his mouth to warn her, but it buzzed off quickly enough and disappeared out one of the high, narrow windows.

Dwalin had set Billa down, grunting an acknowledgement of her weak thanks as he moved away, rolling his shoulders. The halfling stayed where he'd put her, oblivious to the bees and oxen and things. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. Her leg was on fire, and her head felt like something large and hungry were emptying it through her ears.

Kili was in no better shape. He'd collapsed on the straw and was lying on his stomach, looking as though he might be sick. Blood was starting to soak through his tunic, and Fili was trying to work the garment off his brother, though he was favoring his injured side. Dori's sprained shoulder was inflamed again, while Bifur was having trouble with his knee, which had been temporarily dislocated the previous day. All in all, they were a sorry lot as they straggled into the house and found places to sit or lie down on the hay-strewn floor.

Thorin approached his nephews, looking distinctly concerned. He watched as Fili revealed the extent of the dark-haired dwarf's injuries, and swallowed heavily, remembering how helpless he'd felt when they were inflicted.

While most of the wounds were superficial, the way Kili was reacting hinted at deeper hurt, and possibly infection. Now that the fire in his blood was cooling again, the young dwarf would begin to experience the full extent of the pain and exhaustion he'd been fending off 'til now. Thorin knelt down and felt Kili's forehead. The skin was warm, though not quite feverish. Sweat was drizzling down his face, and he was trembling, looking at his uncle with dark, pain-filled eyes. Thorin caught Oin's attention and beckoned to him.

The old healer, who had been more harried these past few days than in any span of time he could remember, puffed over, running a hand through his light grey beard.

"I think he may be ill," said Thorin. "Can you do anything for him?"

"Perhaps, but I can't just snap my fingers and make him better." Oin was clearly becoming a bit exasperated. "Give me a few minutes with him, and I'll see what I can do."

Thorin turned to Fili. "And you… you're alright?"

Fili met his uncle's gaze and forced a smile. "I'll be alright," he said, though his assurances were hollowed out by worry for his brother. Worry and guilt. If he'd been able to take his own punishment, then Kili wouldn't be in such pain. "What about you? Your head, your arm...?" Fili made a slightly helpless gesture, wishing there was more he could do.

Thorin grunted dismissively. "Don't concern yourself with me, Fili. Your concern is for your brother, and," he leaned in a little, lowering his voice confidentially, "for _her_." There was no ambiguity on the identity of this unnamed female, but all the same, Thorin didn't care to attract her attention if it happened the halfling had particularly keen hearing. Then, seeing that Fili wasn't wholly satisfied with his response, he smiled faintly and patted his nephew's shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Oin was, evidently, drugging Kili with some kind of herbal opiate, though it would be a while before the effects were seen. Meantime, it was clear the young dwarf was miserable and trying desperately not to show it, especially in front of his uncle.

Thorin nodded at Fili, standing again. "Look after your brother. He'll need to be well enough to press on within a day or so." The dark-haired dwarf felt something like a heavy weight descending on him. Weariness and pain, and the cares of the road ahead. He needed sleep. They all did.

Fili looked up at his uncle, then down at his brother, and finally, over at the halfling. His concerned frown deepened when he saw how pained the female looked. Still... if she could sit quietly while the others moaned and complained, then she could probably wait longer than they could. Fili hated himself for that thought, but knew, in that moment, this was part of what it meant to be a leader. To make decisions like that.

"Yes, Uncle," he said quietly, bowing his head to his king. Right now wasn't the time to argue. The blond settled in the hay beside his brother and took his hand gently, stroking the sweaty palm with the pad of his thumb. He couldn't bear to look at Kili's injuries, but he could provide comfort in small ways. His attention drifted around the house, watching the others as they found places to sit or lie down. Thorin remained standing, and Fili noted that his uncle was watching the halfling. Billa seemed content to sit near the door where she'd been left, and it looked almost like she would fall asleep there. Thorin's expression was ambiguous at best, his dark eyebrows lowered heavily over brooding blue eyes.

Fili caught himself wondering if, perhaps, there was more to Thorin's concern for their burglar than the simple explanations of not wishing her to slow them down. This wasn't the first, or even the second time his uncle had asked him to watch out for Billa. Fili studied the older dwarf thoughtfully.

_What are you hiding from us, Uncle? Or do you not know yet?_


	20. Chapter XX - The Point of No Return

_A/N: First, this is a_ really, really_ long chapter, so don't sit down to read it unless you have time to read... two chapters. Because it's twice as long as our normal chapters. Second, thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for all your kind reviews, faves, and follows! You guys are amazing. Enjoy!_

_Twenty_

As the shadows lengthened upon the golden floor of the house, the dwarves took what rest they could, eating from what remained of their meager provisions, and drinking of the water in the rain barrel just outside the back door (keeping a close eye out for the return of the bear, of course). Even though Gandalf assured them they were in little danger here, none of them felt particularly safe. Dwarves like things that can be depended upon- stone and fire and familial bonds- not strangers and their ways. Certainly not _skin-changing_ strangers who might be just as likely to eat their guests as help them.

When full dark had set in and most of the dwarves had settled into the straw to sleep, Thorin did not join them. He had had an hour or so of rest earlier, and now he found himself, frustratingly, wide awake. He sat against one of the carved pillars of the house, eyes set on the door, in case their host returned. Someone had to keep watch, and it might as well be him.

At length, he heard a strange rustling and turned. The burglar. She was awake, too. Staring at something in her hand as though it were a comfort to her. A talisman or charm, maybe, Thorin thought, watching her a moment longer.

Then her eyes turned away from her hand and fell on him. Rather than quickly shift his gaze and pretend he hadn't been staring, he left it where it was. She seemed puzzled, curious. Maybe she wondered what was keeping _him_ awake.

Billa held his gaze for a long moment before she found words that didn't strike her as rude, impertinent, or just downright unintelligent. "Can't sleep?" she murmured, slipping the ring into her pocket. She'd thought she was the only one that was still awake. Sitting with her back against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, the halfling had been contemplating things while she waited for sleep to find her. The color of the moon. What sound a sleeping bee might make. Where this little gold ring may have come from, that it may have ended up in the tunnels far below the Misty Mountains. And what gave it the power to render her invisible. Now that she had company, she saw no reason to keep thinking silly things.

Thorin shook his head, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight streaming in the high windows. "I'm keeping watch," he said softly. "The beast may return." Making casual conversation didn't seem entirely in keeping with the way he'd regarded the halfling up 'til then, but his curiosity overruled him. "What, if I may ask, keeps _you_ awake, Miss Baggins?"

Billa hesitated for a moment, frowning at him as though deciding how exactly to answer a particularly tricky question. At length, she sighed and smiled faintly. "If I wanted to sound casual about it, I might say 'I just can't sleep.' But honestly, between you and me..." she shrugged and gestured to her leg. "I hurt a bit too much to sleep right now." She tipped her head back to rest against the wall, looking out the high window opposite with a troubled expression. "The world isn't what I thought it would be."

"It never is," Thorin murmured. "Though I don't suppose I'd know what a halfling might have expected in a journey like this." He smirked. "I suppose that night my Company invaded your cozy _smial_, you weren't envisioning your future self trapped in the house of a massive, shapeshifting bear, waiting for it to return and decide whether or not it wants to eat you."

Billa chuckled. It was a low, warm sound. In spite of the pain and fear of the past weeks, she still had a cheerful smile when called upon. "No, I can't say that shape-shifting bears ever occurred to me until today." She glanced at Thorin and smiled. "I think I was probably imagining getting the flesh melted from my bones- that's what Bofur said, isn't it?"

"He wasn't wrong." Thorin had witnessed that particular fate befalling many of his people - loved ones along with all the rest - and it was no joking matter in his mind. "If you are with us when the time comes, you may, indeed, make the very brief acquaintance of the accursed worm, and his fiery breath. That is the risk we are all taking, and to which all have agreed. But knowing the risks beforehand makes them no easier."

He sighed, wondering why it seemed suddenly so easy to confide in this halfling. Was it because he knew he could never appear lower in her eyes? He, who she herself had needed to rescue from death? "I think on it often, the futility of facing such a beast with no real plan. At best, we reclaim the Arkenstone and escape unharmed. At worst, we wake the beast and it incinerates us all. Can anyone press on and on toward such uncertainty?" He met her gaze again, intently. "Could _you_ lead your people to almost certain death, Miss Baggins?"

There was no hesitation in her answer as she met his gaze somberly, her hazel eyes sad in a face that wasn't as round as it had been before. "No, Thorin... I couldn't. I couldn't offer my people hope or redemption. I'd never have the faith to face certain death on the off chance that my kin could escape."

She watched him for a long moment, and her expression clouded with half-remembered confusion and pain. "I don't understand you and yours, Thorin Oakenshield. I don't know what keeps you going, what gives you such courage and strength. I don't know what well you draw your faith from." She paused, considering him. Then she sighed.

"Sometimes I wish you were different. That your smile came easier, that you laughed when the sun shone, that you loved food or music as I do. But if you did... I don't know if you would have what it takes to lead us." That seemed to confuse her a great deal, and as she finished her observations, the halfling fell into contemplative silence.

"And yet you'd have the faith to offer your services to me as burglar, knowing full well your ultimate task will be to enter the dragon's lair and seek out the Arkenstone?" Thorin had been mystified from the first. Why would anyone who had no interest in the Quest besides the lure of gold risk death against a slim chance of success? Why would the halfling have agreed to come along at all? "Does your pledge remain, Miss Baggins? Will you still walk willingly in the shadow of the dragon if I command it?"

Billa hesitated for a moment, and a strange expression crossed her face as she looked at him. "What a silly thing to ask," she said at last, shaking her head and smiling slightly. "After all the places I've gone for you already, you think a dragon's lair will be any different?" The halfling chuckled, seeming amused by the notion.

Thorin's eyes deepened a little, but he didn't speak his true thought. A dragon's lair had no parallel with anything they'd faced before, nor anything they were likely to face again. As impressed as he was by her courage, she was still very naive.

"Though I would like to know," the halfling continued, thoughtfully, "what is this thing I'm supposed to be fetching for you? The Arkenstone. It sounds like a specific object."

The dwarf saw no reason not to be forthright with her. "It's a symbol. A symbol of my right to rule. The King's Jewel. Without it, the Seven Armies of the Dwarves will not respect my bid to rule, and this Quest will be for naught." Then, realizing she'd probably need some sort of description, he shook his head a little. The splendor of the Arkenstone could not be encapsulated in any words. "It's white, luminous, delicately cut, no bigger than your fist. You could never miss it, not even were it to be buried beneath a mountain of splendid gems. No doubt the worm will be guarding it; he'll know its great value."

"Wait." Billa sat up, her expression slightly incredulous. "So you want me to steal your _right to the throne_ from a dragon?" When he nodded, the incredulity became surprise. Surprise and, perhaps, a bit of pride. "That's a lot of trust to put in one little hobbit." Billa scanned the sleeping forms in the hay for Gandalf, but the Wizard had apparently disappeared again. After a moment, she leaned back against the wall and sighed.

"I'd consider calling you crazy, but you know what they say about the pot and the kettle." She shook her head, smiling again. Nothing could keep her too serious for long. Unless she wanted to ring someone's neck. "Thorin, we're all mad."

The dwarf was tempted toward mild offense, but resisted. He had to admit there was some truth to her words.

"Perhaps," he said, and left it at that. He'd spare her more words about his duty and the greater good. One thing, though, still perplexed him. "Miss Baggins, _why_ are you doing this? Why would you risk your life... for the good of a people not your own?"

Billa's smile grew, and she laughed softly. "Can't tell you how many times I asked myself that, lying on the cold ground under the stars and feeling sorry for myself. It was a while before I came up with an answer other than 'because Gandalf made me.'"

She shook her curly head, her expression nearly fond as she looked at the dark-haired dwarf. "But living with you and the others, listening to your stories... I know it's the right thing to do. You're fighting to regain something I've never done without. Even when my family was dead and gone, I always had a home. But you..." A wondering note crept into her voice. "You've taken this quest for a home, for peace, and made it so much more. Maybe I didn't see it at first, but I do now- and I think you're worth whatever I have to offer. And frankly, if I die, then at least I'll die doing something worthwhile."

Thorin was surprised by her answer, though he wondered, still, how much of her courage was derived simply from not knowing precisely what terrors lay ahead. Either way, certainly a good deal more to this halfling than he'd thought; an egregious understatement, really. There was that stirring within he'd felt before. Fondness? Was he growing _fond_ of Billa?

"I'm honored, then, Miss Baggins. I hope such a sacrifice... is not neces-"

Just then, the back door flew open with a heavy bang and the groggy dwarves were staggering up at once, huddling together, scrabbling for weapons. Silhouetted against the moonlit back garden was a massive, hulking shape. A huge, tall man, hair spiking like a mane down his back, clad only in a pair of ragged linen trousers. Thorin stayed put, raising a hand in signal. It would be no good to show aggression- not until the skin-changer's intentions became clear. Still, his other hand rested warily on the haft of Orcrist.

Billa looked up at their host as he strode through the door. His heavy tread left her in no doubt that he was tired. The skin-changer seemed oblivious to the dwarves until he stood in their midst. Now Billa could see his face in the moonlight, a wild mane of black hair mingling with a full black beard that even the dwarves would respect. The halfling turned a healthy shade of pink when she noticed the vast expanse of hairy muscle that was the skin-changer's chest and shoulders, and as the huge man looked around at the Company, a familiar voice came from the still-open door.

"So, as I was saying," Gandalf said, with a satisfied air, "that was how I and my companions escaped from the orc pack and made it here, somewhat encouraged on our way by you, if you recall."

"I recall smelling orc on my lands," the skin-changer rumbled. Billa heaved herself to her feet and limped toward the fireplace to stir the coals and lay more wood on. Their host watched her warily. "Your idea of 'a few dwarves' seems to have put me at a disadvantage, Wizard."

"Ah, yes. Well, I hardly think that thirteen is an unworthy number." There was a laugh in Gandalf's voice. "May I present Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our Company. Thorin, this is Beorn, a good friend of mine."

"I have heard much of the Oakenshield of late," growled the huge man, leaning down to Thorin's eye-level, which had him bent nearly double, as the top of the dwarf's head only came to his waist. "There's a price on your head, Dwarf."

"So I've heard," said Thorin, relieved, but not completely at ease. He was used to being dwarfed by other races, but this was another thing altogether. "I suppose I should consider it... flattering that my death is so greatly sought by orc-kind."

Beorn smiled faintly, chuckling appreciatively as he straightened. "Brave little man."

Kili, who hadn't had the strength to get up when the others had, propped himself up a little, swaying, curious despite feeling nauseous and lightheaded. He felt very small in the skin-changer's presence, even smaller than he usually felt. He nudged Fili's ankle to say something, but when his brother turned, he decided he was feeling a bit too ill to speak and collapsed backward again with a grunt, weakly flapping a hand in a way that meant "never mind."

Fili frowned, sitting down beside Kili and reaching for a damp cloth to sponge his forehead. He was worried about his little brother. "Hey, Kee, it's alright. Oin, can you give him something for the pain?"

Beorn half-turned toward the fireplace when light flickered through the longhouse. The halfling was hefting his big, flame-blackened kettle over the coals. The skin-changer's bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise and he glanced at Thorin, then at Gandalf, waiting for someone to provide the answer to his unspoken question.

"Billa Baggins," said the Wizard, an amused twinkle in his blue eyes, "the stealth expert of our Company, and an excellent hostess besides."

Billa rested the kettle on the iron hook and sat down beside the fire, looking rather like she was in pain. Beorn frowned and moved toward the table.

_Stealth expert_? Thorin couldn't help but be a little surprised by Gandalf's description of Billa. Other than a quick wit, a keen hand, and silent feet, she certainly didn't seem "expert" material, but then, she _had_ managed to save him that night when he was lying flat on the ground, wounded, his sword out of reach, the Pale Orc towering over him. Perhaps it was _because_ she was the last thing anyone would expect in a burglar that she was proving such an excellent one.

Thorin caught the halfling's unintentional wince and glanced meaningfully at Oin. It was clear by the look the healer returned that he'd seen it, too, and was none too pleased with the fact that Billa was once again straining herself. With a sigh, he quickly finished with Kili and paced over to the halfling, quietly insisting she let him see to her leg once more.

Thorin turned away, troubled. They would need to be moving on before long, and neither Billa nor Kili were even remotely well enough to travel. Gandalf and Beorn were continuing their conversation near the table, and the skin-changer offered the wizard a tankard of honey-wine, which he graciously accepted.

Thorin leaned against the pillar near the table, arms crossed, listening. The bear had been keeping the orc pursuers at bay on the borders of his land, and had killed one that morning, rather spectacularly, by the way he spoke of it, which sent the rest fleeing in terror. For now. Beorn was all but certain they'd be back, or find a way around his lands to continue their pursuit of the Company.

"And what of the road ahead?" Thorin asked Gandalf during a lull. "How will we reach the Greenwood without being overtaken? We have no beasts of burden, no supplies, no food."

Beorn looked at the dwarf king and then at Kili and Billa, who were the most notably injured of the group. His silent assessment was clear enough, and Gandalf gave the Great Bear a glance, tipping his head slightly to the side.

"If our gracious host has any suggestions, I would be happy to hear them. Beorn, you are far more familiar with the area than I."

The huge man stroked his beard thoughtfully and studied the dwarf. "Your party is injured, and the Greenwood is not as it was." His somber gaze landed on Thorin and stayed there. "The darkness grows, and orcs are not the only ones that threaten my borders." Levering himself away from the table, he stepped toward Thorin, and a subtle change in his expression made his face seem hard. Almost unforgiving.

"I don't like dwarves. They're greedy, taking without regard for the world around them and the folk that watch them." The name 'Thror' hovered in the air, though no one bothered to say it out loud. "You think the lives of those who are smaller and weaker are worth less." He reached out with one massive hand, past Thorin's shoulder, and plucked a mouse from the hay. The beat of silence that passed between them was pregnant with the potential threat of the skin-changer's attitude. The moment passed, and Beorn met the dwarf's gaze again. "I hate orcs more. You can count on my assistance in your venture, Oakenshield."

Thorin nodded slightly, surprised by the unlooked-for offer, letting the inadvertent insults that preceded it slide. "My Company and I are grateful to you. I hope, in years to come, your opinion of my people may improve, for it is not the love of gold that drives me, but a desire for justice, and a renewed hope for fallen dwarf-kind."

Beorn was right. Thror had ruled with surety, but he had not ruled well. It was _his_ greed that had brought the dragon, his lust for wealth, and Thorin wanted no part in that sickness. He had seen its effects firsthand, perhaps as no one else- not even Thrain, his father- had. In some hidden alcove of his heart, he trembled as he remembered the look in his grandfather's eyes when he'd pulled him down the secret passage during the attack on Erebor. That wild rage, almost animal, at being forcibly separated from the King's Jewel as it plummeted 'neath the swirling treasure hoard. A heat rose into his chest, a strengthened resolve. He would _not_ become like Thror.

"Your purpose is not my business, son of Durin," the big man rumbled, releasing the mouse into the hay near Gloin, who looked a little unsettled. "My business lies in the husbandry of my animals, and the tending of the land. I'm afraid your injured will take longer than you have to recover. You may have to leave them behind if you want to reach the border before your pursuers."

Fili sat up a little straighter, pausing the sponging of his brother's brow. "No! You can't leave him behind, Uncle!"

Thorin turned a stern look on his nephew that said he didn't approve of such outbursts. "I will do what is necessary for the safety of this Company and for the success of this Quest."

Now that the subject had been broached, it rested more easily on his mind as a viable course of action. But… Billa. Without a burglar, what hope did they have of reclaiming the Arkenstone undetected? It was a difficult conundrum, indeed, one that would require counsel.

"Balin." Thorin turned to the white-haired dwarf, who had set himself against the wall nearby, and was intently carving what appeared to be a flute. "What do you say? Do we dare split up the Company?" His voice was confidential, though it helped that Beorn's rumbling speech was currently breaking up the silence as he addressed Gandalf concerning what supplies the Company might require.

Balin didn't answer immediately. His knife slowed to a gentle, eloquent stroke, and he took time to breathe before lifting his head to look at his king. "Leaving Billa and Kili here may get us to the Mountain sooner, possibly even on time. However," and the word seemed to weigh heavily on him as he spoke, his voice gauged to an undertone for Thorin's ears only, "it would not be a boon, at this point, to upset the balance. Losing our burglar," he nodded to the halfling, who was reluctantly allowing Oin to feel the extent of the damage to her knee, "and our, ahem, jester," a smile hovered about his mouth as he nodded to Kili's pain-still form, "would not a confident Company make." He let the words sink in, seeming to inspect his beard for a beat or two before continuing.

"It may slow us down, Thorin, but I think keeping the Company unbroken will benefit us more than a secret entrance." It was a tough choice to make, and as much as he might advise Thorin, the decision wasn't his to make.

Thorin saw wisdom in his friend's words. "Of course you're right, Balin." He paced a little closer to the older dwarf, crouching down on his haunches beside him, slanting an evaluative glance at the halfling across the room. "It's just that… if anyone is to stay behind, this would be their last chance. Any further, and it will be too late to turn back. If either of them take a turn for the worse, or are injured further…." He didn't finish the thought, but the ramifications of that potential misfortune were all too clear.

Balin made a soft, understanding noise into his beard. There were dangers, of course. More for those two than for the others, perhaps, and yet... "If it worries you," he murmured, "give them the choice. I think you know what their answers will be."

* * *

Gandalf, apparently just noticing the lateness of the hour- he always was one for neglecting such comforts as sleep when he'd set his mind on other things- turned his attention back to the dwarves. "Now that you've met our host, you'll be wanting to get some rest, I expect. And if any of you were considering denying yourself the luxury in order to keep watch," the glance he aimed at Thorin was anything but subtle, "there's no need. Beorn is quite the most dangerous creature prowling this area, and he's graciously extending his protection."

The others nodded, seeming more at ease, and Thorin, frowning, sighed and internally conceded the Wizard's point. He realized he was very tired, and he'd be less fit to lead if he tried to do so in a state of fatigue. Thanking Balin for his sage advice, he found a corner of a huge wool blanket the dwarves were sharing, provided by Beorn, and nestled into the fresh, clean straw beneath it. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed sleeping in a huddle with the others, but he'd grown somewhat accustomed to it these past few weeks, and even though the cold was no longer a concern, he was finding it difficult to sleep without the warmth of another body beside him.

Despite his initial concerns, once he'd given himself permission to relax, sleep caught up to him remarkably quickly. As he faded from consciousness, he could still hear the low murmuring speech of the Wizard and the skin-changer droning on and on in the stillness.

It was a jarring motion to the crown of his head that ultimately roused him, and he tilted his face upward a little to see what had hit him, his vision blurred with sleep. Billa was nestled into Fili's side, and her feet were but a scant few inches from his head. It seemed she'd been claimed by some nocturnal spasm that had sent her large, furry foot into his head.

Thorin realized he'd never been this close to Billa while she was sleeping. He rolled over a little, looking at her. Her eyes were closed, but not gently. She was frowning, and there was the faint sheen of sweat on her face. Was she in pain, or… dreaming?

Billa twitched again, a little less violently this time. Her face scrunched in pain as the muscles in her legs tightened of their own accord. Oin had given Thorin only the barest of sketchy answers when asked about the condition of her leg, conveying that it wasn't the healing break that was the problem, but some damage to the knee that was still fresh. As her diminutive form jerked again, Fili grunted. He, accustomed to sharing a bed with his brother (despite their mother insisting they were too old "for this sort of thing") gave the hobbit a sleepy shove and rolled over so he was closer to Kili before sighing back into sleep. Billa's breathing sped up and became uneven as her body processed the fact that the warmth of her companion was now gone.

"No..." Her voice was faint, but in the near-silence of the longhouse, it was easy to hear. "Don'... go."

Thorin was stirred, in spite of himself, by her unconscious plea. His brow furrowed a little as he sat up, glancing from Fili back to Billa. She needed someone beside her, the warmth and comfort of another. She, like him, must have grown used to communal sleeping, and felt strangely vulnerable lying apart from the others. Thorin pitied her, but he knew he himself couldn't lie beside her. None of the others could either, save Fili and Kili. The two youngest dwarves were seen as little more than boys, and therefore somehow immune to the same rules of propriety as their elders. Thorin had to think about this for a moment. _Why_ would it be inappropriate? Wasn't she one of the Company, just like all the rest? Yes, but she was more. Firstly, she was female. Secondly, she was an _attractive _female. He'd known this from the first, but had spent most of the Quest up until now trying to ignore that fact. No, he couldn't help her himself.

In the end, he nudged Fili and woke him, nodding at Billa meaningfully and making gestures to convey his wishes.

Fili blinked owlishly at his uncle and, at length, understood what he wanted. Rolling over, he hooked an arm around Billa's waist and pulled her against his chest, squirming into the hay so his back was against Kili's side and Billa was securely tucked under his arm, like a hobbit-shaped rag doll. With only the slightest uncomfortable grunt, he settled again and was quickly asleep once more.

Billa, now safely ensconced in the warmth and safety of her companion's embrace, relaxed again. Thorin turned over, settling back into the straw beside Dwalin while the still and quiet descended once more... just in time for him to catch Billa's voice as she mumbled one final word into her sleeve.

"Kili."

He frowned a little. The way she'd said his nephew's name; it niggled at him somehow. It annoyed him. It troubled him. As if _Kili_ were the one protecting her and worrying for her safety. As if keeping her company and helping her along the way were _Kili's_ ideas. Why should she latch onto a naive pup like him, of all people?

When Thorin realized the turn his thoughts had taken, he shook his head, as if by doing so he could dislodge them from his mind. What ridiculousness he could come up with when he was exhausted. That was it, he decided. Restful dawn would put all to rights inside his addled brain.


	21. Chapter XXI - Into Mirkwood

_Twenty One_

Beorn stroked the black and white head of one of the ponies with a tenderness that was startling in one so large. With his hand on the beast's neck, he turned his somber gaze on Thorin.

"They will take you as far as Mirkwood, but no further. They belong here." The ponies were saddled and laden with supplies. Not so much they they would be slowed down, hardy animals that they were, but there was enough there to keep the Company well fed for at least a week. If rationed, they would be supplied for two weeks, maybe more. Though waiting for Kili's fever to break had cost them two nights' traveling, the addition of ponies would shave time off their journey, and Beorn's generous donation of supplies and a decent map of Mirkwood, as the Greenwood was now called, would certainly aid in reaching their destination on time.

Gandalf sat astride a beautiful palfrey, waiting for the rest of the Company to be ready to depart. "Your assistance will not be forgotten," said the Wizard, bowing from the saddle. "May we meet again when the shadows are not so dark."

"The darkest shadows," said the skin-changer, "are found only in the greatest light." The ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Fair winds follow you, my little friends."

Thorin dipped his head gratefully to the skin-changer, urging his piebald pony between a break in the tall hedges and onward across the green plain. The ponies moved at a gentle lope, well used to galloping the soft terrain and possessing remarkable stamina, though not, perhaps, as used to being ridden.

Gandalf and Thorin rode side by side, though the others followed single file, and just as dusk was settling, they drew up before the dense tree-line of Mirkwood, riding along it for a few minutes until they reached a narrow, overgrown pathway heralded by an ornate stone arch. It looked of elven make, but it was now hung with ivy and other twisting vines so that it was hard to make out a few delicate lines of script across its lintel. Overall, the elven road of which Gandalf had spoke so confidently seemed very poorly maintained.

Looking up into the crowded branches overhead, Thorin was struck by how… dead they looked. Many of them were sparsely leaved, and the leaves that were present were a sickly red-orange, drooping, crinkly-edged. He turned to Gandalf questioningly.

"We go through _there_?" No one could help being affected by the pervasive, heavy feeling, the edge of foreboding, that seemed a very miasma in the air filtering out of the pathway.

"This wood feels... sick." Billa eyed the trees nervously, one hand on her pony's neck. The animal didn't seem to like this place either, and shifted restlessly under her. Bofur dismounted nearby and Billa's mount shied nervously, unseating her for the fifth time that day. The hobbit hit the ground in a heap, but sat up again to glare at the beast, just as she had ever other time she'd fallen off.

"Are you alright, Miss Baggins?" Bofur helped her to her feet, and she gave him a grateful smile as she dusted herself off.

"I'm fine, Bofur. Thanks."

"Isn't there some way around this place?" Fili asked nervously, watching the stone arch distrustfully as he dismounted also, and moved to help his brother do likewise.

"Not without going 200 miles out of our way to the north, or twice that distance... south." Gandalf hesitated frowning at the overgrown entrance. There was something wrong here. Leaving his horse to graze nervously nearby, the wizard approached the old causeway, reaching out to touch the stone. If he'd expected to see some blatant sign, the was disappointed. But there were other, more subtle messages for those who knew what to look for. Deep stains in the once-fair stone, ragged edges where the rock had crumbled away. This wasn't merely the ravages of time.

Gandalf turned back to the others, deeply troubled. "Go straight through," he instructed, taking his horse's reins and mounting quickly. "Don't eat or drink of anything you find within the trees. And for your own sakes, _don't leave the path._ You won't find it again if you do."

"Wait," Billa cried, holding one of the supply packs and looking suddenly distressed. "You're not leaving us, are you?"

"I will meet you again on the other side, at the overlook near Dale." The Wizard's gaze fell on Thorin. "Whatever you do, don't enter that mountain without me."

Thorin had dismounted, and leaving his pony for the others to unburden, he stalked over to Gandalf, dismayed, angry. Perhaps a little betrayed.

"What do you mean by doing this?" Thorin jabbed a finger at the Wizard's face. "How can you leave us at a time like this, send us into such a place while you ride off in the opposite direction?" His voice was low but intense, full of justified indignation. "What could _possibly_ be so important?"

The Wizard looked distinctly regretful, conflicted, as though his heart would rather have remained with the dwarves, but he had no choice but to leave. Recognizing that Gandalf wasn't doing this out of caprice, Thorin backed off a little, shaking his head.

"You're truly going, then." He sighed, glancing back at Billa. "I recognize you are not part of the Company and never have been, but I'd hoped," his voice was lower now, a concerned dagger edged with something like fear, "you would be able to help us through this forest, at least. There are those whom I must protect, and entering such a place without you while several of my Company are still recovering from grave injury… gives me pause."

The old man bowed his head slightly, the wide brim of his pointed hat hiding his eyes for a moment. "If the need were not so urgent, I would not leave you in such a place." The Wizard paused and sighed. "I have faith, however, that you will lead your Company as well in my absence as you do otherwise. There is no dwarf who could do better." Gandalf's gaze landed on Billa for a second, and he nodded to her. She looked almost as though she were about to say something, and one of her hands was in her pocket, fingering something inside. One of her missing buttons, perhaps, from the size of it.

"Have faith, Billa Baggins."

"It's not faith I lack," she murmured, and looked away, letting her hand drop. Gandalf felt a stab of pity for her, and for just an instant, wondered if choosing her had really been the right decision. The Wizard shook his head. There was no time for doubt. Now was a time for action.

"I will meet you at Dale. May the Light of the Valar guide you, Thorin Oakenshield." And with that, he was gone, spurring his horse into a frantic gallop back the way they'd come. The ponies, already divested of their packs, followed him with a will, whinnying and snorting as they plunged away.

It was as the line of ponies disappeared over the hill that Billa saw, for the third time in her life, the enormous, shadowy silhouette of a great, shaggy black bear. He stood near a copse of trees, his muzzle turned in their direction, motionless.

"What strange friends," she murmured, feeling oddly safe under the gaze of their mysterious, but generous host.

Thorin exhaled heavily, turning back to the others. "Come on. We can't be caught out here after full dark. We'll make camp best we can once we've traveled a while within the cover of the trees."

The dwarves exchanged hesitant glances, then finally shouldered their packs and trailed after Thorin. So they were going into that dark, smothering forest after all. Without the Wizard.

As they entered the gate, Thorin paused, turning back to look over the Company. "Listen well," he said, glancing at Dwalin in a way that said he'd rely on him to enforce the orders he was about to give. "I don't know just what sort of foul enchantment lies over this forest. We all feel it, plain as that, and I warrant it's nothing to be trifled with. Everyone will stay together; no straying from the path, no touching anything, no losing focus, no speaking in anything above a whisper. Gandalf said the forest would seek to lead us astray, and I don't intend to allow that to happen." He turned to Gloin. "Get the torches; we can light them in here without fear of being seen."

They were fine, sturdy torches, dipped in beeswax, and Beorn had provided enough for the whole Company, though Thorin said they'd only require three at a time. Even so, they sent a reassuring measure of the gloom skittering away to hide behind twisted trunks and gnarled branches. Less reassuring was the light dancing in the eyes of watchful beasts as the Company passed, and the distant snapping and rustling of bush and bracken. The forest was cold and damp and airless, more and more as the dwarves and their halfling pressed on, following a flagstone path nearly hidden by the encroaching undergrowth.

Finally, some two hours after entering the forest, Thorin called a halt. They'd reached something of a clearing, though it was only open at its heart, since the surrounding trees had spitefully linked branchy hands far above, denying the weary travelers even a tiny glimpse of the night sky.

"Make a fire, and be quick about it," Thorin urged Gloin in an undertone, glancing apprehensively about. He turned to the others. "No one wanders off. Keep together, and don't leave the firelight. Rest."

The dwarves more or less collapsed in a jumbled mess to one side of the fire. It was Balin's turn to take first watch, and Thorin ordered hourly shifts, so none of them would lose too much sleep. Their stock of firewood dwindled quickly as the night wore on. When Billa woke Ori for his turn, there were only a few sticks left. The halfling, however, was too tired to care about what would happen after the fire went out. She inserted herself sleepily under Kili's arm, and was soon lost to the world.

Ori shifted uncomfortably as the last of the wood burned merrily over the coals, and looked out at the trees. Eyes. Everywhere, there were eyes. Most of them seemed small and at least relatively harmless, but still... without the fire how would they keep track of all those eyes? Slingshot at the ready, Ori moved cautiously into the trees in search of more fuel for the fire.

It wasn't until after the fire had died that the dwarves started to stir, getting cold without the flames to warm them.

"Who's on watch?"

"Who let the fire die?"

"What's going on?"

They grumbled and shifted, each one waking the others, until-

"Where's Ori?"


	22. Chapter XXII - Ascribed to Surprise

_Twenty Two_

Dori and Nori were panicking, fumbling around for the torches Gloin had set near the fire. When the clearing had been illumined once more, it became immediately clear that Ori was truly missing, and the others began to be alarmed as well.

Gloin shook his head. "Tender young lad. Much like my own son. Should never have come."

"We have to find him!" said Nori, already striding to the edge of the clearing, a torch in one hand, his mace in the other. Dori was hard on his heels, his blade gleaming red in the firelight.

"No!" Thorin lunged forward to stop them. "Don't!" But the two dwarves were frantic, and nothing their leader could say would prevent them from going after their missing little brother. Contrary to Thorin's bidding, they disappeared into the trees.

"We can't just let 'em go!" Dwalin said. "I'll go after 'em, bring 'em back."

Thorin shook his head, realizing he had to act quickly to prevent chaos from descending. "We all go. We can't divide the Company. Everyone up! Hurry. Single file. Dwalin, bring up the rear. Make sure no one else vanishes."

Dwalin herded the others into a line, shoving torches into their hands before taking up the rear. In the gloom ahead, Dori and Nori could be heard, calling their little brother's name in panicked, frightened voices. The trees seemed to crowd them from all sides, looming over them threateningly. The eyes seemed to follow them, skittering through the branches overhead and rustling through the undergrowth on either side.

The darkness around them seemed to press against the light thrown off by their torches, trying to swamp them entirely. Always, Dori and Nori seemed just ahead, out of sight and searching frantically for their brother. It seemed to take ages and ages of walking through the dark woods. Nori was the one the yelled that he'd found Ori, waving his torch wildly over his head to get their attention.

When the rest of the Company reached the scene, Dori was kneeling beside the younger dwarf, very white in the face and trying to staunch the flow of blood from a nasty-looking gash along Ori's ribs.

Ori's russet hair was in disarray as he lay in the midst of a tangle of bramble vines, hardly seeming to breathe at all. As Dori pressed against the wound, his brother stirred, making an incoherent, pained noise. He opened his eyes.

"What-?"

Oin stepped forward immediately, reaching for his kit. "Here, get him out of the brambles. Be careful. Don't agitate him too much." When Nori and Dori had relocated the poor, wounded dwarf onto a clump of soft, but slightly damp ferns, the healer knelt at his side, waving the others back. "Give him some air. He can't breathe what with you all hovering over him like that."

Thorin was puzzled by the strange look Balin gave him. A knowing glance, maybe, as of some long-kept secret about to be revealed.

Not fifteen seconds later, Oin uttered a startled grunt, lurching away a little, as if embarrassed. He turned a bewildered glance on the rest of the Company, as though he was rather at a loss. Balin caught his gaze and nodded, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips in the flickering light.

Oin hesitated a moment longer, an uncertain expression on his face. Nori wouldn't tolerate that. As the injured dwarf moaned pathetically, he fixed the healer with a wild look.

"Help her!" he hissed. Oin shook his head slightly, cleared his throat and bent over Ori's prone form.

"_Her_?" Fili looked at his brother, a startled look on his face. When he glanced down at Billa, the halfling looked equally shocked. In fact, every face in the Company wore an expression of bewilderment- all except for Nori and Dori, who were hovering over their injured sister, and Balin, who had his arms folded passively over his chest.

Thorin turned to the white-haired dwarf, looking rather aghast. "You _knew_, Balin? All this time? Why didn't you-"

"Because it wasn't important, and you would have been unreasonable about it. Really, though, I'm surprised it seems to have come as such a shock to you."

Thorin began to feel uncommonly foolish. He'd long suspected there was something... off about the young, scantily bearded dwarf, but had never quite made the obvious connection. He grunted unhappily.

"Very well. What's done is done, and she'll just have to carry on as she has been. This doesn't change anything." He knew very well that it _did_ change things. He just wasn't going to give it license to.

When Oin had patched Ori up again and her head had cleared enough to walk, supported by her brothers, Thorin made an about face.

"Back to the camp. We'll salvage what rest we can before dawn. _No one else_ is to leave the clearing. For any reason. Do I make myself clear?"

Ori gave Thorin a sheepish look. Her legs seemed to work just fine, but the wound had been along her side and across her ribs, which made breathing rather painful. She stumbled after the others with her brothers' help, and the rest of the Company spent a good deal of time shooting her curious looks, as though checking to see how she'd changed, now that she was female.

Fili turned forward again, shaking his head. Ori didn't look any different, really, but... she was... _different_. "Did you know?" he asked, looking at his brother. "About... you know... all this?" He gestured vaguely back toward the new female. Or, the female that hadn't been- it was confusing.

Kili sneaked a furtive glance at Ori, then turned back, smirking a little. "I had a hunch. He- er, _she _wasn't exactly all that… well, _manly_." The blond shook his head slightly, slowing a bit so they could walk with Ori and her brothers.

"Why, Ori? Why'd you hide your... um... yeah. That." Fili knew that what he'd said didn't really make much sense, but trusted that she'd know what he meant. Nori bristled slightly, just as much out of a desire to protect as out of a vague sense of guilt.

"Why's it any of your business? She's got a right to 'er privacy, don't she?"

Dori nodded firmly in agreement. "It was no one else's concern. It was enough that we knew, and old Balin. She didn't have anyone to look after her back home, and we weren't about to leave her behind. Not for every glittering thing in the treasure hoard of Erebor."

Fili frowned slightly and glanced at his brother, who seemed just as baffled as he was. "But I mean... we could have helped." There was a moment of silence that felt very much like a storm was brewing in Nori, just waiting to be unleashed. Ori was the one that spoke, one hand squeezing her brother's shoulder to keep him calm.

"It was my own choice. I didn't want anyone to know." There was a pained look on her nearly-hairless face, and Fili actually felt a touch guilty for asking at all. It was just something about the way she looked at him with those big brown eyes... had her eyes always been like that? They were so dark and... and _vulnerable_. Fili looked away quickly. There were other things to be worried about right now.

"There's nothing wrong with that, I guess. Just... just don't..."

"It's _our_ job to keep _our sister_ safe," growled Nori. "You keep with your own duties, princeling." Dori shot him a warning glance.

"Keep up," called Thorin from the front of the group. "The clearing should be just ahead."

There was a problem, though. The clearing where they'd made camp didn't seem to exist anymore. No matter how far they walked in that direction, it just didn't seem to be in their path.

"This isn't possible," Thorin muttered, rubbing his bleary eyes, sighing tiredly. "How could we have lost a whole clearing?"

"Must've gotten... off track," Balin mumbled, swaying, eyes heavy.

The others, to a dwarf (and a hobbit), looked as though they'd willingly collapse where they stood and sleep through the night. Must have been the thick forest air, Thorin thought in passing. It was like a stifling, suffocating cloud of forgetfulness.

At any rate, they didn't seem likely to find the clearing tonight, and their torches were already burning down to their grips.

He exhaled harshly, almost too tired to be frustrated. "We stop for the night," he said, turning. "We'll resume the search in the morning. I'll... take the first watch."

As the others settled against each other with looks of relief, Thorin sat against a nearby tree, _determined_ to stay awake.

Billa pushed Fili down beside Kili, who'd already collapsed into a pile of fallen leaves, and made her way over to sit beside Thorin. She was just as exhausted as the rest of them, but she nudged him in the ribs and leaned against his shoulder.

"We better watch in pairs, if we wanna stay awake." She was smiling, though her eyes drooped heavily.

Thorin intended to deny her, but instead found himself nodding. He hid a yawn behind his hand, knowing that if he let himself relax for an instant, the battle against sleep would be over.

"Very well." Even in his supremely drowsy state, the strangeness of her proximity to him registered. Certainly, he'd touched her before. He'd held her, carried her. Always during crises, though. This was the first time she'd come near him of her own accord, leaned against him as though she weren't intimidated by him at all. He wasn't sure just how to feel about it. He wondered if he would be more uneasy were he not so tired.

"Keep awake best you can, but I will not fault you if you're unable to. The heaviness... in the air. It's affecting us all."

"It's not... normal." Billa shook her head and rubbed her face tiredly, looking out at the deep shadows around them. "This wood... it's... I don't know. It doesn't feel _alive_. It doesn't smell like green things and earth. It's not right." The halfling ran a hand through her hair. It was becoming a habit. With a sigh, she shifted slightly so her back was more against his shoulder than the tree. He was warm and solid, she noticed. Not like Fili, who tipped over when she leaned on him, or Kili, who never stopped wiggling. More like Dwalin, but less hard. Definitely sturdier than Bombur. She liked how he felt. Realizing her mind was wandering, she voiced her thoughts, determined to stay awake.

"You feel nice. Sturdy. And you don't tip over." Because that made so much sense.

Thorin frowned a little. "What does _that_ mean?" he murmured. His eyelids felt heavy as lead now, and it was taking every bit of his will to keep them open, to keep his mind from slipping away into blissful forgetfulness. "Some sort of... halfling joke?"

"Fili... tips over." Billa mumbled, and chuckled as she shook her head again, struggling to stay awake. "Just... flops. Like a pancake... I'm hungry."

"Can't do much about that right now," Thorin muttered by way of a reply, though it was a personal gripe, too. He was rather famished himself, having forgone an evening meal, and was trying to forget about it. That seemed to be his preferred method of dealing with things beyond his control. "Might be some hard biscuits in Bombur's pockets if you've courage enough about you to wake him and ask." A silly suggestion through and through, but if she were truly that desperate, at least she had one option.

"Who says I'd have to wake him?" Billa responded with a helpless, exhausted laugh. She nudged Thorin as her shoulders shook. It really wasn't that funny. Under normal circumstances, it may not have been funny at all. But presently, Billa found the suggestion of going through Bombur's pockets while he slept to be absolutely hilarious. "Oh, that's awful. I'm awful. Why'd I say that?"

Thorin honestly couldn't imagine, even in his practically comatose state, that this was a question she expected him to answer, so he just glanced at her strangely and kept quiet.

Perhaps she was a silly, childish creature after all. But she was also warm.

This became all the more apparent as the night dragged on another hour or so into the chill of early dawn, and sitting immobile with his back to a tree didn't help the cooling of his blood. But one side of him, at least, was warm.

He turned again to look at the halfling, and her chin was against her chest, her eyes shut. He nudged her a little.

"Miss Baggins?"

Billa's head jerked up. "I'm awake!" she announced, a little louder than she needed to. "I'm awake. I just... shut my eyes for a minute. Eyelids are very interesting to look at." Nonsense. Complete nonsense. She shook her head and rubbed her face and ran her fingers through her hair. But as soon as her hands returned to her lap, she felt her eyes closing again. It was as though there were simply no power above or beneath the earth that could keep her awake.

"Thorin?" She turned her head to look at him, but his eyes had that hooded, glazed look she'd seen before, when he was being too dratted noble about everything. "You sleep... I'll just... I'll wake you in a minute." Billa forced her eyes open again, realizing they'd closed. She propped herself up a little straighter and stared out into the foggy greyish shadows. Not a full minute later, she was slumped against her companion and snoring gently, her head hanging near his elbow.

Thorin sighed a little. It was well past the time he should've called for someone to replace him, but... he felt strangely reluctant to move. He was warm, reasonably comfortable. And she was asleep against him. Didn't feel so improper if they were both sitting up, which was a strange thought, he decided, after the fact.

In the end, he didn't call for a relief. He stayed where he was, awake another hour, listening to her gentle, feminine snoring and the sounds of the dark, watchful woodland all around.

* * *

It was Fili who woke him, well past first light, and Thorin snorted, sitting up, feeling alternately angry and embarrassed.

"I wasn't... I didn't..." he explained, half-coherently, before he realized he didn't have to explain anything to Fili. Billa was still leaning against him, only just roused by his words, and he shifted his half-open eyes from Fili to her and back to Fili. This was really quite awkward.


	23. Chapter XXIII - To Find the Sun

_Twenty Three_

It isn't the most pleasant thing in the world to wake up cold and stiff, with a crick in one's neck and rubbing shoulders with Thorin Oakenshield while still wiping drool from one's chin. Billa blinked at Thorin, and then at Fili, turning slowly pink.

"Um... I... guess we dozed off, huh?" She was surprised by how evenly the words came out, in spite of the sinking feeling in her gut when she looked at Thorin. He didn't look the least bit amused. Or understanding. He just seemed... disappointed.

Thorin glared at the cold ground, abruptly pushing himself to his feet, straightening his brigandine, and smoothing the fur on his coat. He was fairly certain if he didn't make an issue of what had happened, it wouldn't become one. He didn't look at the burglar, but he could see her in his peripheral vision looking up at him a moment before turning away. No one could fault him for what had happened, if "happened" was even an apt way of describing it. As he strode over to Balin, he had to shake his head a little. Nothing had happened except him falling asleep against an attractive female when he was supposed to be on guard duty. The Company's bleary-eyed stares were uncomfortably hot at his back now, and he tried to ignore them.

"Balin," he said in an undertone, pulling the older dwarf aside, "I think we may have lost the trail for good. The only way we'll be able to judge the direction now is by the sun, but we can't see it. What are our options?"

Balin glanced at Thorin, then at the others. He seemed awake enough, but there was worry in his tired old eyes as he pulled his hip flask out of his belt and took a long swig. Offering it to Thorin, the white-haired dwarf looked up at the trees.

"If the sun is our only hope," he said reasonably, "then someone ought to climb up and find it."

Thorin glanced at his nephews, then turned back to Balin. "But who can make such a climb? Fili and Kili are injured, and so's Ori now."

Balin studied him for a moment before tucking his flask back into his belt. He had a feeling that the obvious answer wasn't the one his king wanted to hear. So, rather than give it, he nodded to the rest of their groggy, guilty-looking Company. "Perhaps the question isn't 'who is capable' so much as 'who is willing.' If you asked, I'm sure someone would volunteer."

Thorin did, ultimately, solicit a volunteer, and the Company was fairly silent, other than Fili and Kili, who were quite willing and assured their uncle they were just fine. "Is there anyone _else_ who would be willing to try?"

Billa glanced around. She really, really didn't want to do this, but... she had to do something to make up for her mistake last night. Standing up, she tried not to favor her injured leg too much. "I'll do it, Thorin."

Fili looked up, his expression deeply concerned and slightly jealous. "But Billa, you're still hurt."

The halfling straightened, a look of determination on her face. "I'm not in danger of opening my wounds and bleeding to death, unlike _some_ people."

Thorin turned, surprised she, of all the Company, would volunteer. Despite her efforts to hide it, her limp was still quite pronounced, and sending her up a tree would be foolish, at best. She could reinjure herself, and then they'd be in worse shape than they already were, having to carry her around as they had after she'd first been hurt. On the other hand, she did have keen eyes, and would be able to see further than any others in the group apart from Fili and Kili. The others were practically in an uproar now, ashamed, not to be outdone by a female... a halfling female, at that. Thorin silenced them. A solution had presented itself to him, and while he didn't much like it, it was for the good of the Company.

"Very well, Miss Baggins. As your eyes are the sharpest, I'll not stop you. But I myself will see you safely to the top. We can't afford an incident."

Dwalin snorted indignantly. "Why should _you_ have to go up with her, risk yourself? I'll go, muddled brain or not."

Thorin shook his head firmly. "No. I know the lay of the land best. I go."

There was a look of relief on Billa's face, mixed with intense gratitude as she glanced at him. She didn't bother protesting. While the others grumbled unhappily, she turned her hazel eyes upward and scrutinized the trees around them.

"This one, I think," said Balin, indicating a sturdy maple that stood a couple lengths into the shade, away from the clearing. The halfling nodded and breathed deeply as she approached. Locking eyes with Thorin for a moment, she smiled tensely.

"This should be interesting," she whispered, right before accepting his assistance in reaching the first branch. Billa waited only a moment for Thorin to follow her before she started to pull herself up to the branches above. She looked decidedly uncomfortable and out of place in the tree, but climbed with strong, determined movements, moving steadily up along the trunk. Climbing up was relatively easy. It was climbing back _down_ that would be the problem.

Thorin stayed a foot below the halfling as she continued, slowly, to scale the tree. He didn't realize just how exhausted he was until his limbs began to tremble, and he grunted frustratedly when the strength he required did not come readily, and his grip wasn't as firm as he would've preferred. By the looks of Billa, she wasn't finding the climb particularly easy either. He watched her closely, making certain she didn't seem likely to fall, and hoping he'd be able to catch her in time if she did. He tried not to notice the strong, smooth curve of her thighs and… Thorin averted his eyes. He wasn't supposed to notice things like that. Besides, distracting thoughts like these were _not_ helpful.

"Try that branch there," he said, breathing heavily, pointing when she pulled up short, unsure where next to go. They'd made it nearly halfway up now, and the others down below looked small and indistinct as they stood, staring upward in marked concern.

Billa took his advice without question, grasping the branch firmly and hauling herself up with shaking arms. She paused then and rested against the trunk a moment, working hard not to pant. Panting would make her dizzy, and that wouldn't help. Peering upward, the halfling frowned.

"Branches are getting thinner. You'll have to stop soon." She glanced down at him, and immediately wished she hadn't. It was a _long_ way to the forest floor. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard against the uncomfortable tightness in her stomach.

"I... I-I'll need your help g-getting back down. You won't be-be able to help me if you're... if you're t-too tired."

Billa grit her teeth and opened her eyes to stare upward. "Confusticate these heights," she grumbled. Her anxiety made Thorin very nervous. She was quaking such that he thought she might shake herself right out of the tree. For the good of the Company or no, this was beginning to seem like a grave mistake. "Steady, Miss Baggins," he said, evenly, though his eyes betrayed his concern. "You're going to be just fine. If you fall, I _will _catch you. You have my word."

"I know," she said with a breathless chuckle, flashing him a smile without actually looking at him. "I know you will. I just... I don't like heights. Hobbits live underground, not in trees." Her voice was steadier now, though she was still trembling. "I'll be back. Don't get up too high. You'll be no use to anyone if you fall." Licking her lips nervously, she twisted and levered herself upward, reaching for the next branch. Scared or not, she was determined not to let them down.

Thorin shook his head. "You don't know the surrounding lands, and I'll need to see them for myself in order to know where we are." He followed her up through the spindly topmost boughs, and as they peered through the red-leaved branches, it was like breaking through a barrier. The air felt thin, clear, fresh after the stifling closeness beneath the canopy, and they both breathed deeply, feeling as though they'd been in some kind of half-sleep before, and were now fully awake. They disturbed a number of dark-winged butterflies, which fluttered up gently from the reddish-bronze leaves, and one alighted on Billa's shoulder.

Thorin's attention was immediately drawn to the lone, mist-shrouded peak visible beyond the distant border of the trees. They were getting close. So very close. They needed only to continue in a north-easterly direction for a score or so of miles and they'd be through the woods and home free.

Billa took a deep breath, a knot loosening in her chest. It was more apparent than ever that the forest was ill, sick and heavy. "Hey." She'd just noticed the mountain in the distance and braced herself against the branch under them, leaning out a bit to get a better view. "Hey, that's it, isn't it? That's the Lonely Mountain!" An incredulous smile spread across her face. "I can't believe it. We're practically almost there."

Thorin nodded, and he couldn't help but be affected by her exuberance. "So it would seem. But distances can be deceiving from a great height. We have a ways to go yet. Come." As reluctant as he was to leave the fresh air and blue sky, the others would be waiting, and he'd seen what he'd climbed to see. He ducked back down beneath the canopy of red leaves, and the same heaviness he'd felt before once more descended upon his mind, a drowsy sort of fog that made it hard to think. It was so sudden, the change was almost jarring. He shook his head, trying to clear it a little, but the fog didn't lift. He'd just have to get used to it again.

As he began to make his way carefully back down through the swaying branches, he glanced behind him periodically to make certain the halfling was able to keep up and didn't seem in danger of falling.

They'd made it roughly halfway down when she slipped. It happened so quickly Thorin had no time to prepare. The cracking of bark, a startled cry, and she was dangling by her hands, gasping, terror-struck.

Billa hung, feet flailing in the open air. The sudden drop had turned her stomach inside-out, and hanging was doing nothing to put things to rights. There wasn't a single coherent thought in her head. The halfling could only remember the feeling of rough stone, icy rain, the force of the wind as it pushed her away from her friends, threatening to drop her into the terrible misty nothingness below. Now it was even worse- worse, because there was no one above her to pull her to safety. No one to save her.

Thorin whirled, practically leaping up a tier of branches to get at her, grabbing her about the waist, yanking her against his body and pinning her between himself and the trunk. For a moment, all was the mad beating of hearts and the harsh, frightened breathing of one small hobbit-lass. He could feel her heat, the way she trembled. Then his mind returned and he realized he'd reacted almost purely on instinct. Overcome with relief, and more than slightly embarrassed, he set her down on the branch beside him, holding her arm to steady her.

"Watch your step next time," he growled breathlessly, "lest you leave this Company without a burglar."

Billa was trembling violently as she leaned against the tree trunk, her breathing erratic and her eyes tightly closed. She swallowed hard and tried to control the weak shaking in her knees.

"Gimme... g-gimme a minute. I'll be... I'll-I'll be fine. J-just gimme a m-minute."

Thorin steadied himself against the branch above, nodding. He glanced toward the ground and was somewhat amused to see his nephews standing on either side of a blanket, holding it taut between them.

"Just in case..." Kili called up at him.

Thorin scoffed. A lot of good _that _would do them if the halfling actually fell on their makeshift jumping sheet. Still, he could understand that it alleviated some of their feelings of powerlessness as they watched the two precariously picking their way down.

At length, Thorin and Billa were safely on the ground again, and the halfling looked much relieved as she collapsed into the ferns, resting her shaky limbs and panting, where she was instantly coddled by an equally relieved Fili and Kili.

Thorin turned to Dwalin and Balin. "Northeast from here will be," he pointed, "that direction. We'll try to continue as straight as we can, but I may need to go up again at some point and make sure we are maintaining course."

"I'll go up next time," Dwalin said in a way that wasn't quite an offer.

"Perhaps that would be best," said Thorin, and sighed.

Fili pulled the little halfling into a semi-upright position and wrapped the blanket around her while Kili brushed the hair out of her face.

"We didn't know," Fili said apologetically. "If we'd known you hated heights so much, we would have-"

"It's alright, Fili," mumbled Billa, still shaking as she laid down on the soft, solid earth and pulled the blanket over her head. She wouldn't have long to rest, she knew.

Surely enough, Thorin was yelling at the others to round up their gear and get a move on. The hobbit reluctantly left the shelter of the blanket and shouldered her bag to follow them. She was really starting to dislike this forest.


	24. Chapter XXIV - The Enchanted Stream

_Twenty Four_

The Company pressed on for an arduous six hours, barring the occasional break for water and what remained of their dwindling and largely missing provisions. On their first such break, it became apparent that Thorin had been right- Bombur _did_ have biscuits in his pockets. Gloin also had some dried meat which he reluctantly shared with the rest. There wasn't nearly enough to fill their bellies.

"Barely more than a mouthful," grumbled Billa, frowning at the pitiful handful of food she'd been given. No more nor less than the others.

"You can have mine, if you like." The voice had never struck Billa as feminine before, but as she looked around at Ori, she decided that his- er, _her_ voice- was a little more mature than she'd thought. The young dwarf was holding out her biscuit to the hobbit_. _Billa noticed that her bit of dried meat was already gone.

"You need it more," protested the halfling, eyeing the hardtack hungrily. Back at home in the Shire, she never would have dreamed (nightmared?) of eating such a thing.

"Nonsense. Just take it."

"Hey." That voice was masculine. "Both of you need to eat. You can't go giving away your ration willy-nilly." Fili was frowning at them, holding one of their two remaining water casks. Thank goodness Balin and Nori had the sense to hold on to theirs. Again. Without asking permission, he pushed his portion into Billa's hands and gave Ori a stern look. It was unusual, Billa thought, to see him looking so serious. "Eat up, both of you."

Nori had a particularly dangerous gleam in his eye as he took his water back from the blond, indulging in a brief drink before offering it to his sister. The females exchanged a glance. Neither of them were sure what to make of this new protective streak in the males of the Company, but they silently agreed that they were all ridiculous. It was only then, when things seemed to be settling down, that Kili sprang out of the bushes with a large toad in his hands.

"Here comes GANDALF!" The young dwarf brandished the squirming toad, grinning cheekily. "Give Gandalf a kiss!"

Ori hid her eyes and Billa squeaked as Kili pushed the poor animal into her face.

"Wartier than I remember," Billa muttered, shoving the toad away. "Don't think his namesake would approve."

"That's enough," Thorin scolded, glowering at his nephew. "Everyone on your feet. Time to move on." He was all but certain they were back on track now, elven road be damned.

He was wrong. Dead wrong. One hour more, then two, and the already dim forest around them had darkened into twilight. A few minutes after catching the first strains of its sleepy song, they drew up on the banks of a languidly flowing but broad stream, its water grey and murky, eddying sluggishly around a few mossy stones.

"Don't get near it," Thorin warned, his tone faintly alarmed. "There's something wrong. It feels... off. May be poisoned or bewitched by some foul craft of the elves."

He turned to his nephews. "You still have that toad you caught earlier?"

Fili looked surprised, but dug a hand into Kili's bag, pulling out the wretched animal. This was much to his brother's consternation, as Kili had grown rather fond of Gandalf the Toad. The creature was still damp and croaked unhappily as it squirmed in his hand. The blond eyed the stream for a moment, then glanced at his uncle.

"Everything in this place feels wrong. How can you tell if this is any more wrong?" Thorin took the wriggling animal from Fili and stepped a little closer to the water's edge.

"We'll send the toad in first, see how it affects him." He set it down near the bank, but rather than escape into the water as quickly as it could, like any ordinary amphibian would have, it veered aside in what seemed almost fright and began hopping back toward the trees.

Gloin caught it, handing it back to Thorin. "Well, if that's not suspect, call me a goblin," he said, shaking his ginger tresses wonderingly.

Thorin leaned a little closer and plopped the heavy toad into the water, recoiling from the splash that followed. The toad's head bobbed up, and it croaked frantically, flailing its webbed legs, before going limp and being carried downstream.

"Just as I thought," said Thorin, gravely. "We have to find some other way to cross." Kili sighed, sorry for poor Gandalf.

Billa was sitting with her back against Bombur's shoulder, watching the stream and chewing her lip. It was quite a wide stream, and in the dim light under the trees, it was hard to see the opposite bank. This wasn't helped by the tendrils of silvery mist rising off the water.

"Kili," she said suddenly, frowning. "Can you see something on the other side? A shape in the water?"

Fili heard the question and squinted at the opposite bank while his brother did the same. There _did_ seem to be something on the other side, but it was too dark to really make out what it was. A predator, maybe? Or a dead body?

Kili leaned forward, straining his eyes. "Looks almost like a... boat. An old boat, low in the water. I wonder-"

Thorin cut him off. "Bofur, do you still have your grappling hooks?"

"Aye, in my pack. I'll get 'em."

While the hatted dwarf was thus occupied, Thorin retrieved a length of rope, which he then secured to the ring of the hook and handed to Fili.

"See if you can snare it. Mind your aim. And try not to get too much of the water on yourself."

Fili frowned and took a deep breath, staring at the vague shape. A boat. He'd just have to drop it in. Swinging the hook in a wide circle, he angled his body before releasing. The weighted rope soared through the air in a long arc, then splashed into the stream a good two lengths short of the boat. With a grunt, Fili started to pull the rope back in, determined to try again.

While Fili worked, Thorin spoke in hushed tones to Dwalin and Balin.

"We've strayed from the course," he said, frustrated with himself, and with the accursed forest's closely packed stands that turned them aside again and again and made it almost impossible to judge direction.

"We could parallel the stream," Balin suggested. "Follow it down. We'd get out eventually."

"We need to get away from this water," said Dwalin, uneasily. "I don't like it one bit, and the sooner it's behind us, the better."

Balin looked at the stream and sighed, shaking his head. "I don't like it either, Brother. But if it can lead us out, it could be more boon than threat."

Kili watched his brother, arms crossed, wondering whether the stream's broad expanse was even wider than it seemed. "Do you want me to give it a go?"

Fili gave him half a smile. "Let me have one more shot, then you can try." He didn't want to point out that Kili still had nasty scratches all over the backs of his arms, scabbed over and healing. Knowing his little brother, he'd just get upset and stubborn about it. Unfortunately, his second try was no more successful than the first, and splashed noisily into the water to the left of his target.

Kili accepted the rope and its hefty metal weight from his brother, then stepped a bit closer to the water's edge than Fili had dared. He swung the hook around several times to gain momentum, then, employing all his strength, hurled it up and over the dark watery expanse. There was a decisive _thunk_ and the line didn't slacken or come loose when Kili pulled on it. He drew the rope semi-taut, grinning, terribly pleased with himself.

In a moment, the dark shape of the boat began to grow larger, and the lazy current didn't impede its progress toward their side of the stream at all. The others had gathered around now and were watching, their eyes glinting faintly in the dim light. At last, the boat's features came into view. It was little more than a small row boat, and looked as though it wouldn't seat more than two or three at a time. While it was clearly old and rickety, it seemed seaworthy enough.

"Now try to catch the line into some of the branches on the opposite side," Thorin ordered. "There's no paddle, so that's how we'll have to maneuver."

When the grappling hook had been successfully caught in the tangles of branches on the far bank- a feat that took three tries from Fili and four from Kili- Thorin turned to the others. "I'll go first. It may be some kind of trick meant to ensnare those attempting to cross. I won't risk anyone but myself until I'm certain it's safe."

Dwalin started to protest, but faltered when Thorin shot him a look he knew well. No arguments would be accepted.

The Company watched rather nervously as Thorin climbed into the rickety craft. The dwarf pulled himself along the rope, the boat making gentle waves on the slow-moving, dark water. When he disembarked on the other side, he called to Fili and Kili to pull the boat back to their side. The brothers hauled the vessel swiftly back, and Thorin gave his instructions, voice carrying across the smooth water with ease.

"The boat's big enough for two- organize yourselves into pairs so that the injured ones have an able-bodied partner."

The journey over the water was tedious, but not frightening, at least. Billa, crossing with Bombur, eyed the water anxiously and held on to the mossy sides of the boat rather tightly. When they reached the other side, she scrambled up off the bank onto the dried earth above the stream.

Fili and Kili were the last to cross at their own insistence. Fili pulled them across, but looked as though his side was bothering him when they reached the far bank. Thorin was waiting for them. With a strong, steady hand, he helped Fili out first, making sure his nephew was safely out of danger before turning to Kili.

As he grasped Kili's forearm and braced him for the jump to shore, the fleet rhythm of hooves emerged from the trees. A magnificent stag, with fine, branching antlers came charging out of the gloom, knocking several of the dwarves off their feet as he dashed straight through the group. Thorin released his nephew as the hart bore down on them, getting out of the way before he could be trampled. The animal ran right up to the water, gathered itself, and made a magnificent leap, clear across the stream.

Thorin cursed his luck. He might have killed the beast and fed his Company comfortably for a few days. This moment of distraction was enough. Kili had been braced against the edge of the boat, and when Thorin let go of him, he teetered dangerously. The deer's fantastic leap had carried it right over the dwarf's head, and Kili ducked instinctively as the stag flew over him, but his sudden motion rocked the boat precariously sideways, sending the young dwarf flailing toward the water. Thorin lurched forward, gripping his nephew's arm in a last ditch attempt to steady him. Kili was able to right himself in time, but Thorin lost his footing in the thick mud on the bank and plunged headlong into the stream.

The water wasn't deep this close to the bank, but the damage had been done. Several cries of alarm met Thorin's ears when he surfaced again, and, panicking, he fought his way out of the heavy water and threw himself back up on shore. Too late. His senses were turning fuzzy, fading into oblivion. So this was it, then? He'd die in this accursed wood, long before he'd had the chance to test himself against dragon-fire. Of all the ridiculous ways to go.

"Dwalin... go on. Keep on," he murmured, his thoughts jumbling. His eyes closed, and he frowned a little. "Fili, don't- don't let her..." He trailed off, and did not speak again.


	25. Chapter XXV - All That Wanders

_Twenty Five_

"Thorin!" A chorus of worried voices broke the silence, not the least of which were Fili and Kili. Both young dwarves had guilt and fear stamped across their faces. Oin pushed them aside and knelt beside his king, brow furrowed with concern.

Billa was seated on the hillock above them and saw the whole confusing jumble play out by the water. Her heart was in her mouth as she stood, as though in a dream. It tasted like raw fish, her heart, and it was trying to block her throat. Oin's voice reached her as she started to move down the hill, struggling to process that Thorin wasn't moving.

"He's asleep!" The healer's words was full of incredulous relief. "He's not dead. Just asleep."

The Company started breathing again as Billa reached them. Asleep. Not dead. A ball of tension loosened in her chest and she sighed. Fili was beside her when she stopped. Kili on her other side.

"Bifur, Bofur, make a stretcher." Dwalin was growling out instructions. "We'll find a good place to camp and wait for him to wake up." With remarkable efficiency, the dwarves fashioned a sturdy travois and carefully hefted the sleeping dwarf's limp, muscular form onto it.

"Drape a blanket over him," Oin said, soberly. "Keep him warm." Kili unrolled his own and did as instructed, tucking the corners beneath Thorin's body. He studied his uncle's face. The expression was flat, but seemed peaceful enough. He didn't seem to be in pain, which was somewhat reassuring. The Company moved out swiftly, deathly silent, feeling strangely lost and tense without the strength and presence of Thorin.

Dwalin insisted upon drawing the travois himself, and when at last they'd reached a small clearing, they halted and Gloin built a fire. They arranged the sleeping dwarf on a bed of blankets beside it so he'd be able to dry, and then settled in to wait.

Billa sat quietly beside Thorin, looking down into a face she hardly recognized. Without the harsh lines of anxiety and grim determination, he looked practically handsome. Movement to her left heralded Fili's arrival, and the halfling turned to look at him as he sat down.

"We shoulda been there to stop it," he murmured, shaking his head.

"He'll wake up soon enough," Billa said confidently, smiling at the blond dwarf. As Kili sat down, Billa turned a kind smile on him as well. "Everything will be fine. On the bright side, this is probably the best sleep he's gotten in weeks."

"How do you _know_ he'll wake?" Kili voiced the question that was on many in the Company's minds. The young dwarf felt tremendously guilty. This was entirely his fault, and there was no getting around that fact. "What if it's some kind of... eternal enchanted sleep?"

Dwalin had an answer ready. "Then we go on. Those were his own orders, lad, and whether he wakes or not, we'll follow them."

Billa glanced at Dwalin, then at Kili. Her expression firmed into one of confident belief. "He's _Thorin._ You really think he'd just sleep for the rest of his life?" The halfling chuckled, all assurance and warmth. "He'll probably be up and yelling at us by morning." For now, at least, it was easy to ignore her own fears.

Fili looked comforted, but not entirely convinced as he glanced at his brother. "I guess so."

Kili was less comforted. For all the confidence in Billa's words, there was the distinct cast of doubt in her face. The disturbing fact that hung over all while they sat about whispering, exchanging uncertain glances, was that if Thorin were no longer able to lead them, Fili would inherit his duties.

One other thing gnawed at Kili's mind. The last thing Uncle had said. To Fili. Something about _her_. _"Don't let her..."_ or words to that effect. What could he have possibly meant? Which "her" did he mean? Ori or Billa? Perhaps he was delirious. He patted Thorin's head, sighing sadly. _Come on, Uncle. We can't go on without you._

* * *

The sun rose over the forest, blazing bright and hot in a cloudless sky. Beneath the canopy, however, there was almost nothing to show for it, though it seemed unseasonably warm, even in the eternal twilight of Mirkwood. Thorin still wasn't awake, and no amount of shaking or slapping could fix that. Fili had a mournful, determined look about him as he stood up, his eyes on his uncle.

"We'll bring him with us," he decided, nodding slightly. "Take turns. Dwalin, you can take the first hour. The rest of you," he turned and found them looking at him expectantly, "pack up. We're moving out. Bofur, can you climb up and check our heading?"

Bofur looked rather dubiously up at the surrounding trees. Climbing wasn't one of his strong points, but he wasn't about to argue. With some travail, he managed to scale a sturdy ash, where, after recovering from being temporarily blinded by the sun's light, he determined its location. When he climbed down and reported his findings, it was rapidly determined they'd been going due north rather than northeast. They'd gone _deeper_ into the forest rather than toward its edge. Kili looked uncharacteristically grave. This was most disheartening news. He turned to Fili, speaking in an undertone.

"So... we alter course? How long do you think it'll take us to get through? We'll," he lowered his voice to a whisper, suddenly aware of his obligation not to further damage the Company's already flagging morale, "_starve_ if we don't get out of here soon."

Fili made a face, clearly uncomfortable with this idea. His brother was right, of course, and he remembered the Wizard's warning- 'don't eat anything you find inside the forest.' But if it was that or die, he would go against Gandalf's advice.

"I know, Kee, I know. If Uncle's guess was right- and I'm inclined to believe him," the blond glanced at their unconscious leader and shook his head slightly, "then we have another forty miles to go before we reach the forest's edge. There are animals in here. We'll have to hunt, and conserve as much water as possible." Fili paused and gave his brother a concerned, measuring look. The weight of leadership was heavy on his shoulders. "How true is your aim, Brother?"

Kili shrugged, frowning a little. "True enough," he said, then added, sheepishly, "most of the time." He'd fancied himself a first-rate archer until that run-in with the wargs in the Lone Lands. Apparently target practice didn't wreak as much havoc on his nerves as actually having a charging beast's fangs a stone's throw from the point of his arrow. "What do you have in mind? We haven't seen more than a squirrel these past few days. They're quick, and they disappear the instant you spot 'em. Other than that stag, but there's been nothing like him since."

"I could hit a squirrel," said a confident voice at Fili's elbow. The blond jumped, before realizing it was just Ori. The female was holding her slingshot and smiling encouragingly. "Used to do it all the time back at home. Well, they were actually sandrats, not squirrels, but it's the same basic idea, right?" Fili wasn't sure what to think about that. It was one thing to ask his brother to hunt, another entirely to put Ori on the same task. After a moment's tense hesitation, he sighed.

"Alright. You two, keep your eyes open for prey. We need to augment our supplies as much as possible. If you can get 'em on the move, all the better." Lifting his head and his voice, he turned his attention to the others. "Bofur, you take point. Dwalin, in the middle. Gloin, you've got rear guard. Let's move."

Their boots ate up the distance between them and the forest's edge, if indeed, this forest _had_ an edge. The dwarves paused infrequently, and spoke even less, though they often switched off who was pulling the unconscious Thorin along the nonexistent path. That night was no different than the one before, though Billa was less sure of herself when she assured the others that Thorin _would_ eventually wake. With the morning light came the first of Bombur's attempts to cheer them up. His idea of cheering them, however, came in the form of long lists of foods he'd like to eat, and how they were prepared.

"You have to cook them until you have a nice bed of juices," he explained to no one in particular, smiling dreamily. "Then you can add the potatoes and onions- but you have to move it off to the side so it doesn't cook too fast. Otherwise the meat gets crispy too soon and-"

"Stuff it, Bombur!" Bofur was generally quite amiable with the others, but had few qualms about being direct with his portly brother when he was getting carried away about food. As he often did. "You can keep your cooking fantasies to yourself, thank-you very much."

Bombur looked somewhat hurt, but complied. Billa shot Bofur a displeased look.

"He's only trying to help, Bof. Let him be." Turning an encouraging, slightly dreamy smile on Bombur, she waved a hand lightly at him. "Go on, Bombur. You were just getting to the good part." Bombur smiled brightly, but his brother groaned.

"_Please_, no more food-talk," he growled. "I'm hungry enough as it is."

Fili pushed between them, scowling. "Enough squabbling. Billa, if you and Bombur want to talk cooking, you two can take rear guard. Bofur, I know it's hard, but at least _try_ to keep your mouth shut. We're all hungry, and not talking about food isn't going to help either way." Tempers were short and hot, but Fili was doing his best. "Next clearing we find, we'll take a break. We could all use a rest."

"And a good meal," muttered Billa, rebelliously.

* * *

The night seemed darker than ever. Billa watched the trees around them, wishing she didn't have to sit watch all alone. She remembered the night she and Thorin had sat up together, though it felt like it were months ago, now. The silence had seemed less threatening then, and the soft growlings and rustlings that broke it had been, somehow, less hungry.

"Maybe it was because _I_ was less hungry," she murmured, glancing down at the unconscious dwarf beside her. Thorin looked the same as he had when he'd first fallen asleep. Well, drier, perhaps. Not that it made much difference. The halfling sighed and peered around at the shadowy, jumbled forms of the Company, sleeping in small piles around them.

"It's hard," she heard herself say, though she hadn't meant to speak aloud, "getting on without you. I mean, Fili's doing a marvelous job of leading us. He learned that from you, no doubt. But really... it's..." Billa cleared her throat, and sighed again. How could she say it? The need to confide in someone was strong- might as well talk to the one that wouldn't suffer because of her own stupid fears.

"It's scary. There's no other word for it, Thorin. It's downright frightening." She paused a moment, listening to the distant croaking of frogs. "We'll survive, I know we will. But... but I wonder if you'll be with us when we see the sunlight on the other side. The idea that we might have to leave you behind- I don't know if I could do that." Something growled, and the bushes rustled. With a grunt, the hobbit pushed herself onto her knees and poked the fire, adding a small piece of wood before settling beside Thorin again. He was a comforting presence, even still and silent. She wondered if he could hear her. A healer had told her once that speaking to those that were lost in their own minds, caught in the hold of fever or trauma, could help them find their way back to the world of the living. She hoped he'd been right.

"Today wasn't so bad, though. Ori got a squirrel, and Kili killed it- and I caught something, too." Her chest swelled with pride, even as her stomach twinged uneasily. "I don't really... I mean, I didn't know I could do that kind of thing, you know? A fluffy little bunny rabbit. It was just sitting there, innocent as can be. And I... well..." Billa trailed off, frowning. "I was just so hungry. All I could think of was rabbit stew, or casserole, or brazed coney... you know. With all the right herbs, and a pinch of salt, some potatoes and carrots and onion. Next thing I knew, it was dead. I broke its neck, I think."

Billa was feeling a bit queasy, so she looked down at Thorin's face to steady herself. He didn't look angry or impressed. Just neutral. And asleep. The halfling reached out and gently brushed her fingers over his brow, down along his cheek and into his short beard. It was longer now than when they'd started their journey. How long ago had that been? Bag End seemed such a long, long way from here.

"I'd like to think you would have been proud, Thorin. I'm learning how to defend myself, and hunt, and all sorts of things. Soon, I'll hardly be a hobbit at all. Imagine what my father would say if he could see me now." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her hand still cupped around his cheek. "Don't sleep too long. We need you. At least... I do." After a moment of fighting temptation, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. There was no flash of light, or angel's song. He didn't magically wake up. But Billa felt a little better. Perhaps things weren't as dark as they seemed.


	26. Chapter XXVI - Courage

_A/N: Thank-you all, once again, for your continued readership, and your wonderful reviews. There may be a day or two in between future updates, but we'll try to keep them coming as quickly as possible. Quality over quantity and all that. I'm sure you guys understand. Without further ado, another chapter!_

_Twenty Six_

The morning was cold and damp, as had been the morning before, and the morning before that. No one was willing to get up, but Fili roused them anyway, and sent his brother up a tree to check their heading. They found, to their dismay, they'd been traveling away from the edge again, though which direction was a little fuzzy, as none of them seemed to recall which side of the clearing they'd entered from. The previous night's dinner hadn't been enough to fill their bellies twice, so when they set out again, they were just as hungry as they had been the day before.

"No food," muttered Bombur.

"No water," added Gloin.

"And we keep getting lost." Nori grunted as the travois caught on a large root and jolted to a halt. He let out a string of curses that earned him an impressed look from Bofur, and a scowl from Billa. There was the sudden sound of heavy skittering legs through the surrounding bracken, and the dwarves scrambled for their weapons.

"Circle up!" Dwalin bellowed, his dual axes poised. "Keep together, lads!" They were hardly ready at all when spiders burst out of the underbrush. Three of them, with long, hairy legs and fat, black bodies. The dwarves held fast around Thorin and Ori, defending them with blade and body. The spiders clicked and skittered and keened and lunged, snapping with razor-sharp mandibles. One screamed as Kili buried a knife in the midst of its glistening eyes. Bifur let out a grunt of surprise as a spider caught hold of his leg and started to drag him away.

And now more spiders descended from the branches above, clicking and gurgling their delight over fresh prey. Dwalin lodged his axes in the face of the spider dragging Bifur, seizing the dwarf by his belt and hauling him back into the circle. This was slightly before a massive black shape dropped on them, catching Dwalin in the back of the neck with a sharp, glistening stinger. The sturdy dwarf stood a moment, frowning, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled. With Dwalin incapacitated, the others were hard-pressed to defend themselves against the onslaught that followed, wherein two or three spiders would strategically target a single dwarf, sting him, and then hold off the others whilst one dragged the dwarf away.

After Dwalin, there went Bofur, Oin, and Gloin. Bombur was assailed fiercely, since his plumpness greatly tempted the hungry arachnids, but he managed to fend off each attack. In the end, he, Fili and Kili stood, surrounded by twenty enormous, scurrying, many-legged shapes. Ori and the sleeping Thorin had been taken, and Billa hadn't been seen since the start of the fight. Many a spider lost life and limb before the three were at last overwhelmed and dragged away.

* * *

Too small. Not skilled enough. Not fast enough. Billa stayed silent, hidden, rubbing the ring on her finger and cursing her own cowardice. She had her sword in hand, but what good did it do her if she was too scared to use it? There were just so many of them, and she'd never liked spiders. Was everything in the outside world unnaturally large?

It was painful to watch her friends be taken up into the branches, wrapped up in sticky silk like sick, white fruit. Some of them squirmed and kicked, but after the first sting, none of them really fought anymore. The halfling swallowed tears of frustration as Kili, the last to fall, was stung from behind.

"Fili!" he called weakly, just before being overrun with spiders. Billa's hands balled into fists as she looked away. She couldn't watch Kili being eaten.

_Where's that courage now? Where's that Took blood when I need it? I should have helped them._

"This one's plump and juicy," hissed one of the spiders, almost directly over her head. Billa didn't want to hear it, but her legs refused to move.

"Pity about Hessan," hissed a second spider.

"More for us," snapped the first. "Ooh, look, it's still wriggling. Get those juices flowing, lovely. That's right."

"How long must we wait?" asked the second, seeming to have forgotten all about Hessan. "I'm hungry."

"Shevul will not thank us for starting without her. If you don't want to be part of the meal, we wait."

"She better not take too long. I hate dead food."

Billa felt a jolt. They were waiting. The dwarves were still alive.

With careful steps, she moved deeper into the trees, keeping an eye on the white bundles dangling overhead. She found a decent-sized rock, and with a mighty effort that nearly wrenched her shoulder, Billa chucked the stone as far as she possibly could. It hit a tree some yards distant, making a dull thunk that carried easily across the space between them.

"What was that?"

"There's another?!"

The spiders scurried off excitedly, followed closely by their fellows. Taking a deep breath, the halfling sheathed her sword and started to climb, her heart threatening to seize in her chest with every pull that took her farther from the forest floor. The ground was very far away when she finally reached the branch from which hung two of the dwarf-bundles. Sticky white web hung everywhere, and she wondered how in the world she'd missed it before. Clutching the branch tightly as she crawled out along it, determined not to look down, Billa drew her sword and cut down the first of the silky cocoons.

* * *

Kili roused at the teeth-jarring impact with the leaf-strewn forest floor. As groggy, sore, and disoriented as he was, smothering inside stifling bands of silk, he had enough wits about him to struggle against his bonds. They'd been loosened in the fall, and he managed to free his arms and so extricate himself- mostly- from the silk. He began hearing other heavy thuds around him, followed by the groans and confused voices of the others as they regained consciousness, and turned to the nearest bundle, ripping at the stretchy strands where the face would be. Bofur. The poor dwarf gasped for breath, squinting as though his vision wouldn't focus. Kili helped him the rest of the way out, and turned to another bundle.

A few of the others had managed to escape and were likewise assisting their fellows, glancing anxiously about all the while for the return of the spiders. They were muddled and clumsy in their efforts to free the others, but panic lent them a certain amount of useful speed. They understood they had no time to waste; wasting time could very well mean their lives.

As Kili tore at the strands about the face of the next bundle, he was momentarily startled to find a pair of very familiar, piercing blue eyes staring back at him.  
"Uncle?"

"Yes," came Thorin's muffled voice. "Now don't just sit there."

Kili returned, with a will, to ripping at the stringy spider silk, a smile of tremendous relief spreading across his face. Thorin seemed very much awake... and very much himself. A minute later, he was free. While he was still somewhat shaky and dazed, and looked more than a little disheveled, his hair wild and tangled with leaves and strands of silk, he was strong enough to resume command.

"You're all unarmed?" he asked, frowning. He had Orcrist firmly in hand, as it had been in its scabbard at his side when he was taken.

"They're coming back!" Billa's voice rang out from the branches above them, but the halfling was nowhere to be seen. "Arm yourselves, quickly!"

Fili searched the ground for his swords in a certain amount of panic, and found one of them half-buried in leaves. The others picked up whatever they could find to hand, sticks and rocks, mostly, though a few were fortunate enough to find a weapon they'd dropped earlier nestled amongst the trees or hidden in the bushes and ferns.

The fight was a hard one, as confused and venom-sick as they were, but the flashing brilliance of Orcrist seemed to make a great difference; the spiders didn't know quite what to make of it, or the fierce-eyed dwarf who wielded it with such unstoppable fury. After Thorin slew their Matron, an old, fat, thick-skinned spider at least twice as big as the others, the spiders retreated, leaving the ground littered with severed limbs and the crumpled, curled-legged bodies of the dead.

"We'll be back," hissed one of the fleeing arachnids, shooting a malevolent, eight-eyed glare at Thorin. "We will have our meal yet."

Overwhelmed with relief and disorienting exhaustion, several of the dwarves sat down on the hard ground. Their supplies were ruined, or missing altogether. Many of their number were injured, and they were lacking one burglar.

"Where's Billa?" Fili looked about, his heart pounding again. "Has anyone seen her?"

"Up here." Billa's voice sounded weak. When he looked up, the blond dwarf found their burglar clinging to a tree branch, hanging upside-down and looking rather ill, spattered with black spider-gore. Her sword was, he saw, sticking out of a spider that lay on the ground below her.

Thorin looked up at Billa, blinking in surprise. What was she doing up _there_? His head still hadn't completely cleared, but he'd been injected with a relatively small amount of venom, which had served to counteract the water's effects. All in all, he wasn't nearly as bad off as the others were.

"Can you climb down?" he called. There weren't many convenient branches leading down from the one to which she clung, and he was prepared to go up after her if necessary. How she'd gotten there in the first place was confounding him.

Billa swallowed hard, eyes still closed. "Maybe. My arms feel like jelly." She tensed all over, and it looked for a moment like she would try to move along the branch, but neither her arms nor her legs moved. Fili moved forward a few unsteady steps and glanced at his uncle.

"Let go, Billa. I'll catch you."

It took several tries to convince her to just let go, and when at last the hobbit dropped into his arms, it looked like it was mostly because her arms had lost the strength to keep her up any longer. The sound that accompanied her fall was like a breathless scream, and when Fili caught her, it didn't exactly go down without a hitch. Or maybe it did- since the burglar hit his arms and the dwarf fell, his legs giving out under the additional weight.

Dropping Orcrist, Thorin quickly helped the two to their feet. The others were busily swiping bits of spider silk from their hair, beards, and clothing, looking weary and ragged. They wore edgy, frightened expressions, as though they expected the return of the spiders at any moment... or possibly something worse. In a place like this, there was no way of knowing just what might appear out of the darkness between the trees.

"Are you hurt?" Thorin asked, sweeping his gaze over the halfling briefly before meeting eyes with Fili.

Fili shook his head slightly, seeming more unsettled than hurt. He was just as disoriented as the others, and as he managed to regain some form of physical stability, he quickly checked over his shoulder to see if the spiders were coming back.

"Other than a bad headache and being more tired than I've a right to be, I'm fine. What about you, Billa?" Fili glanced at the halfling, who met his gaze shakily. She was unsteady on her feet, but offered him a fleeting smile.

"I'm alright, I think. I didn't get bitten, unlike the rest of you."

The blond touched the back of neck and shuddered when his hand encountered a nasty, swollen spiderbite the size of one of his knuckles, and weeping some sort of sticky liquid.

"We got off track... heading more north than northeast..." Fili glanced around for Bofur, wondering if the gregarious miner had managed to keep tabs on his sense of direction in all the chaos. He doubted it, but it was worth asking.

As expected, Bofur hadn't the faintest idea which way they'd come, or which way they needed to be going. It seemed they'd have to send someone else climbing to find the sun before proceeding too much further.

While a very feeble-looking Oin tended the bites on the dwarves best he could, Fili and Dwalin filled Thorin in on what had transpired during the day and a half he'd missed.

"And what happened after that? Who... set us loose?" If Thorin didn't know any better, he might've thought it another of Gandalf's surprising, last minute interventions.

Fili hesitated, confused. "You mean it wasn't you?" He glanced at Dwalin, who shrugged. After a long moment of thought, Fili tilted his head to look up at the branches above them, then around at the halfling, who was just then stumbling back into the clearing. She was wiping her mouth with a shaky hand, and had obviously just emptied her stomach into the bushes. He felt a twinge of guilt.

"Billa? Who cut us down?"

She frowned at him, and for a moment, he thought she might not know either.

"I did. What did you think I was doing up there?"

Thorin shook his head in wonder. " 'Fierce as a dragon in a pinch,' the Wizard said, and I didn't believe him." He smiled faintly. "Perhaps Balin will eat his words now about your 'letter opener' of a sword."


	27. Chapter XXVII - Led Astray

_Twenty Seven_

"Oin?" Thorin caught the healer's eye and nodding tellingly at the poor halfling.

Oin was too relieved at seeing Thorin awake to be put out much by the fact that his services seemed to be required by everyone present- all at once. He quickly finished cleaning the bite on Ori, who was trembling and pale, but seemed to be holding up alright, and then moved over to Billa. Noting vomit stains on her knees, he nodded to himself and dug in his battered kit a moment.

"Mint," he said, and handed her a brittle, dried sprig. "Chew it quietly and think happy thoughts."

Billa took the mint and did as instructed, thinking to herself that "happy thoughts" were a rare breed in this lifeless place. Shooting a glance at Thorin, she managed a smile.

"It needs a name. Proper swords have names."

Thorin nodded, wiping Orcrist clean on a nearby fern. "Perhaps a name will come to you. For now, we need to move." He frowned a little, glancing upward. "As soon as we have a heading. Dwalin! Send someone up. Whoever's fit."

Dwalin grunted assent, then realized, to his annoyance, that he was currently the only one fit. Besides Thorin, that is, but he wasn't about to let his leader risk himself again. Muttering under his breath, he found a suitable tree and worked his way up its sturdy, but sparsely branched trunk. Some fifteen minutes later, the bedraggled Company was on its way again, more slowly and less surely, but back on course... for the moment, at least.

The heavy air grew even heavier the further they ventured, such that it almost choked their lungs, made them dizzy. As they reeled along, it became apparent no matter how well they navigated, their chances of finding their way out were slim to none. They were going in circles, hungry and exhausted and on the verge of collapse. Fili could have sworn that he heard flute-song somewhere far, far away. He wanted to stop and listen, but Dwalin, who was behind him, got grumpy whenever he did.

"Keep movin', laddie," growled the hulking dwarf, giving him a shove.

Bofur was gabbling about tobacco pouches, Billa was snapping at him- something about circles. Gloin kept twitching and swinging his ax around.

"What's the matter with you?" Anything to get his mind off of that music. It was driving him mad. That and the ache of hunger in his belly.

"The trees! They're passin' wind!" The ginger dwarf swung around, bristling angrily as he stared at the plants around them. "They offer us insult!"

Dwalin thumped Gloin over the head. "Shut up," he said, and turned back to scanning the twining branches of the canopy above. He'd seen movement in his peripheral vision earlier, and it was unnerving him. Something dark, quick, elusive, shifty. Like a shadow. He'd have to keep a sharp eye out; giant spiders weren't the only things to worry about in here, he warranted.

Bombur was gushing about food. Some feast in his waking fancies, perhaps, where he had all the delicacies in the world at his fingertips and had only to snap up what he wished. Bifur and Bofur, who were closest to him, tried to ignore him. They were famished enough without listening to his talk of all the food they didn't have. At any rate, they didn't have to ignore him long. Soon, they were consumed in their own reveries, walking along dazedly, eyes glazed.

* * *

The others' voices faded behind Thorin, and he turned. His heart nearly strangled within him. He was alone. They were gone. All of them. He'd _just_ heard them, hadn't he? Not a moment before. They'd been snatched away somehow, all in an instant. Fili. Kili. Billa. He frowned. Was that the order of things, then? He'd mourn the loss of a halfling before Balin? Before _Dwalin_? He turned about, searching the shadows for any signs of his fellows. It was cursedly dark here now, dark enough that he couldn't see but a few feet in front of him, as if dusk had descended all in a moment and he somehow hadn't noticed until now. This puzzled him to no end.

Just then, carrying eerily through the trees, he caught... voices. They were calling for him. Perhaps he'd been wrong. Maybe _he'd_ been the one snatched away from the others.

"Over here!"

Female voice. Billa?

"Thorin! Where are you?"

A voice that evoked the thought of a kiss. A kiss? Thorin felt his heart beat faster. Ridiculous. Of course not. And besides- it was unimportant. The main thing was to find them again.

* * *

As Thorin dashed recklessly through the forest, trying to find his missing Company, the others were beginning to notice his absence. At least, Kili was. His fussing brought the fact that their leader was gone to Fili's attention, who tried to tell the others- but no one seemed _capable_ of listening, even if they'd wanted to (which, apparently, they didn't). Even Balin seemed lost to the depths of his own mind.

"You were so... so _perfect,_ Kisha. Why did you have to go?"

Fili tried to rouse the old one, shaking him. Kili tugged on Balin's elbow, his voice escalating from nervousness to mild fear.

"Balin, Thorin's gone missing. Please, you need to help us find him." Kili's pleading tone made no impression on the old one.

"Don't interrupt, there's a good lad," said the white-haired dwarf vaguely, pushing him away. "Can't you see I'm talking to Kisha?"

"We can't give up, Kili." Fili was disheartened, but not quite ready to throw in the towel. Billa! If anyone could be sensible in a situation like this, it would be the halfling.

Fili stepped back, brushing nasty ropes of drool from his shoulders with a shudder. He could have sworn it was falling on him from the branches above (the trees clearly wanted to eat them all, and were softening them up, he just _knew_ it). The Company grumbled as he fought his way back through them, but they didn't stop him.

"Billa! Thorin's missing-"

"Don't trod on the sausages!" Billa gave him a shove, scowling. "I'm trying to _enjoy_ myself here, can't you see that? I've had little enough food without you walking all over Bombur's marvelous feast." Bombur was giving him a nasty look, too, and fluffed a pile of leaves huffily, as though it were a lovely salad of some sort. Both of them had actually come to a stop and were sitting on the forest floor while the others staggered slowly away from them.

"If you're done stompin' on the cakes, would you like to join us, or are you just going to ruin it all for those of us that care to eat?"

Kili became _really_ concerned when Bombur and Billa actually began shoveling handfuls of leaves, pine needles, and dirt into their mouths, chewing contentedly. He exchanged a horrified look with Fili, then turned back to the others.

"Stop it, you two. Would you look at yourselves?"

"Get off the cake!" Billa shouted, jabbing at Kili's knees with a stick she'd found (she may have believed it was a fork or knife). Kili snatched the "fork" away and flicked it off into the bushes. He reached down, gripped the halfling firmly below the shoulders, and shook her. "Snap out of it, Billa! You're eating _leaves_!"

Billa looked thoroughly affronted. "You're insulting Bombur's cooking now, eh? Wait 'til Gandalf hears about this. He'll turn you both into toads!" She tried to push Kili away, but only partially succeeded before Fili smacked her soundly. The crack of his hand connecting with her cheek resounded through the trees, and the Company actually straggled to a halt, looking about for the source of the noise. Billa, completely dumbfounded, stared at the blond in shock as her cheek took on a painful, rosey color.

"Listen to yourself, Billa. Look at your 'feast,'" he snarled. "You're eating chaff and loam, not cakes and sausages." The halfling looked down at her hands, and all at once, started to spit and cough. There was nasty grit all over her teeth and tongue, and a very unhappy feeling in her stomach as it struggled to digest leaves, twigs and dirt.

Kili offered her a handkerchief, which she gratefully accepted and used to wipe her mouth. The others, though, were only momentarily distracted from their private reveries, and continued chattering on to themselves, or staring dazedly off into the distance. No one was moving now, and Ori and Dori had settled to the ground beneath an aspen and were having some kind of invisible tea party. Kili shook his head, feeling helpless and out of his depth.

"No no no, this cannot be happening. Everyone's gone mad but us!"

"Mad is right," agreed his brother, staring suspiciously upward. "Let's get moving before these things decide they've waited long enough. I'm practically swimming in drool."

Kili's mouth fell open a little. _Not you, too!_

Billa looked from Fili to Kili and frowned, seeming deeply concerned. Bombur was now complaining loudly about his feast being ruined because they were walking all over it. The hobbit turned to look at her friend, a thread of panic working its way through her expression.

"This forest is driving us all mad," she murmured, glancing at Kili again. "We need to keep moving. Where's Thorin?"

Kili shook his head helplessly. "Gone. We don't know where he is."

"Gone?" Billa couldn't hide the fear that shot through her like a wild flame. Without Thorin, what were they to do?

"Gone," confirmed Fili, still eyeing the trees distrustfully. "Come on, the three of us together can probably get them all moving again. We might get out of this yet. If the trees don't eat us first."

* * *

Far away through the malevolent trees, Thorin had finally come to a gasping halt, clutching at a stitch in his side. No matter how fast he ran, the voices that called to him were always just a little ahead, just out of sight, never close enough.

_"Thorin, why did you stop?"_ A soft, feminine murmur reached his ears.

"Billa?"

_"We need you, Thorin. __**I**_ _need you. Don't give up."_

"Billa!" A fresh wave of strength surged through him, and the dark-haired dwarf leapt forward. He could see her- just through the trees up ahead. His burglar was beckoning to him, looking relieved, happy to see him.

But the form that solidified in the misty half-light of the forest wasn't a hobbit. A narrow, sharp-featured face with large, almond-shaped eyes frowned at him, and the sharp point of an elven arrow pricked his shoulder.

"Don't move, Dwarf."


	28. Chapter XXVIII - The Elvenking's Halls

_Twenty Eight_

Thorin froze, feeling somewhat... betrayed. It didn't make any sense. What kind of sorcery _was_ this? They'd read his mind, perhaps, lured him in using his friends' voices, faces. Billa. They'd used _her_ likeness against him. And he hated them for it. Hated them more than any words of his could tell. His eyes, though, spoke what his words could not, and the elf glowered down at him, raising the tip of the arrow so it hovered a few inches away from Thorin's forehead.

"Who are you?" The elf's voice was mellifluous, and spoke in faintly accented Westron. "What business does your kind have here in the Woodland Realm, Dwarf?"

Thorin's lip curled with rage, but he resisted the mad impulse to swat the arrow aside and strangle the elf.

"It's no concern of yours who I am, or what I'm about," he snarled. "What right have you to detain me?"

"You're trespassing, Dwarf, in the ancestral lands of the Silvan Elves." The fair-haired elf smirked lightly, nodding toward the trees behind Thorin. Four other elves emerged on silent feet, dark-haired and grim-faced, arrows at the ready. He issued an order in Elvish, and two of them relaxed their bows, stepping forward. The blond turned back to Thorin. "You will be taken before the King for questioning. If you've any sense about you at all, you'll answer him more freely than you have me."

Thorin scowled, but didn't resist as Orcrist was taken, his wrists were bound before him, and he was led away along invisible paths through the darkening trees. He might have drawn the blade when he had the chance, had he the presence of mind, but was forced to admit it wouldn't have done him much good anyway.

It seemed a short walk that took them to a different area altogether. The trees were spaced further apart, and the air was cleaner. There were no spiderwebs here, and the path became more or less visible as they crossed a bridge, which seemed to be made of an enormously thick root. The root was, in turn, connected to a gargantuan tree, the limbs and trunk of which were twined about a curved stone structure of elven make. The gates were open, but guarded by several armed, dark-haired elves. Their eyes gleamed strangely as they watched him pass, their expressions enigmatic at best.

Up stairs and along passageways, all smooth and curved, like the outside of the structure had been, whether wood or stone. The throne room was cavernous, one might say presumptuously so. And there, seated on an elaborate throne, decorated with huge branching antlers and lifelike carved vines, was Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. He turned his austere face toward the procession, platinum hair falling over his shoulders in silky waves.

"Thorin Oakenshield," he greeted with only the faintest note of surprise in his voice, rising fluidly from his throne. "You look terrible. Bring our guest wine and bread." His dark gaze flicked to one of the guards who'd escorted the dwarf inside, and the elf bowed, retreating. The silence lasted a beat or two longer than might have been polite before Thranduil glanced at his son.

"We found him wandering in the forest, my lord," murmured the fair-haired elven prince, bowing slightly. "He was calling for a companion, I think, and carrying this." The elf produced Orcrist and presented it to his father. Thranduil's expression darkened as he took the blade, murmuring something in Elvish. Drawing the sword partly and inspecting the gleaming metal, the elvenking pursed his lips.

"How came you by this, Dwarf? I was unaware that your kind had any respect for blades not of their own making."

Thorin felt dazed. Here, in the elven king's halls, the air was clear, and now the dwarf could see how ridiculous everything that had transpired in the forest in the previous few days had been. They'd behaved a bunch of lunatics, walking in circles, no doubt, and barely aware of their purpose at all. They'd been fools to think they could make it through the Woodland Realm without the Wizard.

"A gift. He said he'd be insulted if I passed up such a blade."

"Indeed!" said Thranduil, flicking his gaze amusedly between the ornately cast hilt and the dwarf. "Do you know aught of this sword, and whose hand may have borne it before yours?"

"An elf of Gondolin. Or so I was informed by the Lord of Rivendell," said Thorin, shaking his head at the elf who was currently offering him food and drink. As famished as he was, he would not accept refreshment until he was sure of the fate the rest of the Company faced. "What have you done with them? My people?"

Thranduil glanced up, his keen blue gaze locking with Thorin's. "Ah, so you _did_ have companions, then. I didn't think you, of all people, would venture here alone. I'd always fancied you a more sensible sort than your grandfather. Poor soul, thinking he could retake Moria on a whim."

Thorin glowered at the elf, bristling at his supercilious tone. "No one could have been prepared for what we faced at the gates of Moria. What choice did we have? _You_ certainly wouldn't have aided us."

"Of course I wouldn't have." Thranduil frowned slightly, returning Orcrist to his son. "You think I'd risk the lives of my kin for _Thror's pride_? Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe you _are_ as dull as he was."

Thorin stiffened. "You know nothing of my people's suffering, Elf. Did you or did you not promise my grandfather friendship? Why, then, would you deny us in our greatest need? Are you completely without honor?"

Thranduil recoiled slightly, a flicker of unease and shame crossing his face, before he concealed it with the frustration and bitterness that had built over the ages. "Do not speak to me of suffering, Dwarf. You cannot know what I have seen."

He had raised his army. He, Thranduil, Elvenking, had led his kith and kin to the aid of the dwarves. He had headed the army that was to rout the dragon and save Thror from his own madness. He'd had every intention of helping his ally. Even within sight of the great bronzed gates of Erebor, he'd not doubted for a second that the might of the Woodland Realm would prevail.

Then he'd seen what Thorin could not forget. What none of them would forget. Dragonfire. Dale in ruins. Hundreds, _thousands,_ fleeing for their lives. The young prince, begging for aid. Thranduil had nearly urged his steed forward. A vision made him hesitate, however. He had Seen...

Himself, leading the charge with his army behind, rallying the dwarves and their waning courage, storming the front gates. Smaug emerging from the depths of the Mountain, still young and soft, but a grown firedrake nonetheless. Dwarf-blood turning the ground to scarlet mud. His kin, dying where they stood, burned in their own armor. The few warriors of Dale that had survived, rushing to their aid and perishing also. Smaug, scales gleaming like fire in the light of his own inferno, killing and ravaging, hunting down those that fled, then returning to kill those trapped inside the mountain. Not a single survivor. No more Thranduil, Elvenking. No Thorin, son of Thrain. No Thror, King Under the Mountain. And none to mourn them.

Yes. He, Thranduil, had turned his back on them that day, denied them aid when they needed it, and had not given them aid on any day since. Not sanctuary. Not supplies. Though, in his defense, they had not asked for it. A friendship had been lost, but at least they had been alive to hate him for it. Perhaps if he'd known of Thror's intent to march on Moria, things would be different now.

Thranduil came to himself and shook his head, straightening. "No. Do not speak to me of dragonfire. You think you know suffering. You know nothing."

There was a beat of gravid silence, then Thorin shook his head slowly. "We were driven from our ancestral land. Our _home_, time out of mind. To live in exile is the greatest shame a dwarf can know, Thranduil Oathbreaker. Whatever you may have suffered, it cannot compare. Now let me on my way. As you may have divined, I've set my face upon Erebor, seeking the vengeance I've been long denied. Live or die, I hope never to cross paths with you and your ilk again."

Thranduil's expression was stony as he looked down at the dwarf prince. "You were caught trespassing and carrying that which you had no right to. Further, you've led more of your kin into my realm and set them loose to cause havoc. By all rights, I should imprison you until you die in your own time." The elf's face took on a haughty cast as he folded his hands elegantly and smiled in a rather condescending manner. "But I am generous. I'll offer you a chance to leave, with your Company and my aid. You imagine yourself on some noble quest- I see a more... prosaic cause. There are items in Thror's hoard that even I covet. Gems that glow with the starlight my kin love so. As one king to another, surely we can reach an understanding of sorts."

Thranduil's mounting condescension had the effect of squelching whatever iota of reasonableness Thorin might have had. "An understanding?" the dwarf scoffed. "Truly? I thought it had been well established you and I would never understand one another." He stepped a little closer, his short stature not in the least diminishing his intimidating presence as he stared darkly up into the elf's face. "What if I _did_ promise the jewels you seek in exchange for my release, and then withheld them once my kingdom was reclaimed, my power restored? King or not, you make a fool's bargain."

Thranduil stiffened, outrage smoldering in his eyes as his lips parted in a barely less than obvious snarl. Was this dwarf so blinded by his own thirst for vengeance, by his anger and grief, that he couldn't recognized an offer of trust when he saw it? Ever were the dwarves of Erebor stiff-necked and proud, but the line of Durin had always taken it as a challenge to be stiffer and prouder than the rest. Thranduil clenched his jaw against the insults that raged inside him.

"Take him to the dungeons," he snapped, then took a breath to calm himself. "Let him cool his heels for as long as necessary. Be it even a hundred years, Thrainson, I can wait. A century is but a blink in the life of an elf." The elvenking glanced sharply at the guards and turned away, letting them drag Thorin off.

"Legolas- take a party and seek his _companions._ I won't have trespassers in our lands."

The younger elf bowed, murmuring obeisance as he turned to leave.

* * *

Thorin was ushered into a small, cramped cell that hadn't been used in a millennium or so if the squealing of the door hinges was anything to go by. The elven guards slid a metal plate bearing a slice of bread and a wedge of cheese through the convenient slot beneath the door, reached through the bars to set a cup of water beside it, and disappeared.

Thorin didn't touch what was offered. Neither did he follow his first impulse to hurl it back through the door at the elves as they departed. At a loss for anything better to do, he removed his heavy coat and settled onto a stone bench at the back of the cell to wait.

It was perhaps an hour later that the first of his companions was brought in. Balin, Dwalin, and Bofur, looking dazed and frazzled, and apparently just realizing all the things they'd been fancying beneath the dark, choking shadows of the trees had been lies. Balin was escorted into the cell adjacent Thorin's, and as soon as the elves moved off again, Thorin made his way back to the door.

"Balin, where are the others? How were you separated?"

Balin groaned as he sat down and reached for the food he'd been given. "Same way you got separated from us- our minds were miles and years away, and our feet were trying to catch up." The white-haired dwarf shook his head. "Are you hurt, Thorin?"

"Only my pride," said Thorin, tightening his grip on the bars, "but I suppose that's a small hurt, and I won't lament it overmuch if the others are all brought in safely. When did you last see my nephews?"

Balin hesitated. "I... don't remember. Things are still a tad fuzzy, lad."

"They stopped to help Bombur- he was havin' a 'feast,' remember?" Bofur's voice echoed slightly from a cell further down the winding walkway. "I don't remember seein' em' after that. Guess we lost 'em in the fire."

"Fire?" An edge of alarm joined Thorin's intonation. "What do you mean? What fire?"

"Aye, what _do_ ye mean, lad?" Balin sounded less alarmed than confused. "There was no fire."

"What?" Bofur's frown was clear in his tone. "But... it was everywhere. Dragonfire."

"There was no fire. You were seein' things, lad." Balin sounded vaguely irritated through his mouthful of bread.

Thorin sighed through his nose, much relieved. "Visions. Nothing more." He hated the way his mind kept returning to the shock and betrayal of his own hallucinations, as if _she'd _actually been there. As absurd as it seemed, the memory couldn't help but elicit real anger, and he despised that. She wouldn't… she'd never… not Billa. Not his burglar.

Another half-hour passed, and then the thudding of weary boot steps heralded the next installment of dwarven prisoners. Bifur, Bombur, Nori, Ori, and Dori, who had evidently stuck together throughout whatever tricks the forest had played on them. Still no Fili and Kili, though. Or Billa.

Nori was arguing with Dori. "If you didn't have to be so dim! Taking tea in the woods, clinking invisible cups, of all things."

"I tell you, we could _see_ them," Dori insisted. "Couldn't we, Ori? They were there- all of it was there- a table, a lace tablecloth, a teapot, sugar cubes, everything. Isn't that right?" He had a wistful look on his face now, as though he wished he were back at his invisible tea party. Even if it hadn't been real, it was better than… well, _this_.

Ori didn't seem very eager to get involved, and as the dwarves were steered (rather politely) into adjoining cells, she nodded slightly, looking sheepish.

"Is that what you were doin'?" Bofur sounded incredulous. As Ori disappeared into the cell that already held her middle brother, her face was turning vividly red, listening to Bofur dissolving into gales of laughter.

Oin was escorted in next, grumbling loudly about Gloin and underpants. One of the elves steered him into a cell and handed the dwarf a new ear trumpet with a faintly amused smile.

"What are ye sniggering at, ye moon-face leaf-muncher?" The elves didn't seem the least bit bothered. They closed the door behind him and gave him the same ration the others had already received.

"No sign of Fili and Kili?" asked Thorin, but his query was answered a bare instant later when the young dwarves in question appeared, looking shamefaced and tired, but not particularly delirious. They were being escorted by the blond elf who had captured Thorin and an unfamiliar red-haired she-elf in a flowing green tunic and leather bodice. Thorin wished he hadn't noticed Kili making eyes at her, but it was all too obvious.

The young dwarves were locked into adjoining cells, and the elves walked away, speaking in hushed tones, glancing over their shoulders. When they'd gone, Thorin leaned against his cell door again.

"You're alright?"

"We're fine," Kili answered. "Just a little confused."

"You can say that again," Fili commented under his breath, slanting a peeved look toward his brother's cell.

"Is everyone here, then?" Kili said, by way of changing the subject.

"No," said Balin. "Miss Baggins hasn't turned up. When was the last time you lads saw her?"

Fili, distracted from glaring in the general direction of his brother, pressed his face against the bars, alarm building. "What? You mean she wasn't with you lot? Last I saw her, she was with Bombur."

"Gloin's missin', too," pointed out Oin, in a gloomy sort of tone.

"Maybe they're together." Ori's hopeful suggestion was squashed not twenty minutes later as Gloin was frog-marched down the walkway, yelling curses and insults in which the elves' mothers featured prominently. This time, the elves seemed far less amused, and much less tolerant than they had been with Oin. The red-haired she-elf was with them, issuing quiet orders in Elvish. She paused outside of Thorin's cell and looked in at him. There was a faintly mournful look in her almond eyes as she shook her head slightly and turned away. She passed Kili's cell, glancing at him only briefly and not stopping.

As silence fell, Gloin started to yell again. "Don't ye just _stand_ there, lads! We need to get OUT of this accursed hole!"

"No one escapes the dungeons of the elvenking without his good will. And seeing as we've all been disarmed, I doubt any attempt would take us farther than our own doors." Balin's tone was filled with exhaustion, but not defeat. "We'll simply have to wait for our chance. If he offers us a deal, we may yet leave this place on our own feet."

"There will be no deal," said Thorin, firmly. "The ElvenKing's terms are... unacceptable."

There was a collective sigh of disappointment from the other cells. Their leader, it seemed, had met an elf who was his match in stubbornness.

"So who was the last one to see Billa?" Kili asked at length, feeling deeply responsible for her absence. If only he and Fili hadn't run off looking for Thorin. That had been a fruitless endeavor, but at the time, it seemed the only thing to be done.

The others hesitated, no doubt trying to recall which parts of their recent memories were real and which weren't.

"She… fell." Bombur's voice was hesitant and strained as he fought to remember. Kili could imagine the frown of frustration on the fat dwarf's face. "Into a bush, I think. Tripped over something. Then the cakes- er, the elves, I mean. Then the elves came."

There was a brief silence, as though each of the dwarves was processing the implications of that series of events. At length, Balin spoke. "Our burglar has shown great resourcefulness before this." He chuckled faintly, though it sounded slightly forced. "I don't presume to guess what she'll do next."


	29. Chapter XXIX - Polite Conversation

_Twenty Nine_

Tauriel sighed quietly as the dwarves lapsed into silence. She was well out of sight, but her hearing was keen. "They speak of another," she murmured to her fair-haired companion, frustrated. "I'll take a party and search the forest again."

Legolas looked troubled and a touch uncertain. "The spiders are growing bolder, Tauriel. Why not let me go instead?" The blond tried to be delicate; he knew his red-haired captain would never agree to something she saw as a shirking of her duties. "I... worry. You could question the dwarves while I'm gone- casually, of course- and see if they'll reveal anything else about their missing companion."

Tauriel's eyes narrowed slightly. "It is my duty to protect you, my friend," she told him, with the air of one scolding a youngling. "Putting yourself in danger won't help anyone, least of all you."

Legolas opened his mouth to protest, then realized he had no argument. Well, none that he could verbalize, anyway. None that she'd respect.

"Very well," he said, finally. "I'll stay and question the dwarves, then." She turned to leave, and he grabbed her forearm to stop her, catching her eye. "Be careful. You know as well as I do these woods aren't what they used to be."

"I know. That's why I'm going, and you're not." Tauriel smiled faintly, looking determined. When she'd gone, the elf prince sighed and rounded the corner to the main walk of the prison. At the first cell he reached, he halted, glancing sidelong at the dwarf within. A youngster, by the looks of him, with doleful eyes, ruddy hair, and a wispy beard.

"You're a tender thing for a quest like this," the blond commented, stepping a little closer to the door.

Ori looked up at the elf, blinking tiredly as she tried to focus. "I'm near eighty. That's old enough." She glanced at Nori, who'd passed out on the bench. They were all exhausted. Turning her attention back to Legolas, she frowned slightly. "Why the interest? Didn't think you lot would care."

"Just curious," Legolas offered, shrugging. "You're not like most of the dwarves I've seen. Well... neither are they." He nodded toward Fili and Kili' s cells. "I suppose I haven't met many young dwarves." He clasped his hands behind him, pausing thoughtfully. "Are your parents on the quest, too, or did they send you off alone?"

Ori's expression was flat as she answered. "My parents are dead." She paused a beat, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Nori's sleeping form. "If you're curious, you can ask my brother, though. My other brother's in the cell next to us." She nodded to her left. As though on cue, Dori appeared at his door, frowning, his braids in disarray.

"Is this gentleman bothering you, Ori?"

_Gentleman_? Legolas nearly chuckled. Strange way to be referred to. He raised his hands dismissively, stepping back a little. "I wasn't bothering him. Just making conversation."

He moved over to Dori's cell. "So how are you finding your lodgings, Dwarf? Better than the forest, I hope." He shook his head slowly. "Fourteen dwarves, wandering the tangled paths of 'Mirkwood,' as outsiders call it now. You were fortunate to make it as far as you did without losing too many of your fellows." Dori would no doubt "correct" him, but it wasn't so much _what_ he said as _how_ he said it that interested the elf.

Dori frowned at him. "Yes, I suppose we were lucky to have gotten through." The tense silence told the grey-haired dwarf that the rest of the Company was listening intently. "But perhaps you don't count the same way we do- there are only thirteen here."

The dwarf seemed a little defensive, but not overwhelmingly so. Legolas feigned a gaffe. "Oh. You're right. My mistake."

He shuffled forward casually, moving along until he'd reached Thorin's cell. The dwarf was sitting against the stone bench, his head lowered so his dark hair half covered his face. When the elf's shadow fell over him, his eyes jerked up, glinting pale blue in the dim light. "What do you want, Elf?"

Legolas leaned toward the bars. "From you? Nothing." He lowered his voice to a confidential undertone. "Between you and me, Thorin Oakenshield, I know of your missing dwarf. You're not all here, are you?"

Thorin leaned forward a little, hands sliding down over his drawn up knees. "Good catch. Now that you mention it, I _am_ missing some people. I think I had at least a dozen more dwarves out there I managed to misplace along the way. Why don't you go find them and leave off pestering us?" He wasn't entirely sure what kind of tactic this was. At any rate, sarcastic exaggeration, rather than denying a missing member altogether, seemed a more advantageous approach.

Legolas twitched away from the bars, unsettled by the thought of that many dwarves in his father's realm. But no. He shook his fair head. It was a trick, to throw him off. The elf took a deep breath.

"The longer you hold your silence, the longer this 'Billa' is out there with the spiders. Either you can tell me what you know, or you can wait for us to bring in his body." A grain of truth could pierce the heart as surely as an arrow. Legolas saw Thorin pale in the shadowed corner of his cell, and felt a twinge of guilt. He looked almost scared.

"What of it?" Thorin asked finally, schooling his face back into its ordinary, unaffected scowl. "If we're missing another dwarf- or a hundred other dwarves- what does my admitting it accomplish? I don't know where they are any more than you do. Keep looking, if you think it will do any good."

Legolas sighed, his eyebrows lowered in mild frustration as his blue gaze met the lighter, icier eyes of the dwarf in the cell. "I had hoped you would care whether or not your companions lived." Straightening, he turned away from Thorin. Perhaps dwarves were all as stubborn and aggressive as his father had told him. The others he passed seemed to be mostly asleep. The young ones near the end were awake, though, and Legolas paused at the door where the dark-haired one was peering out at him. He'd seen this one watching Tauriel, and didn't appreciate it. But personal prejudice had no place here.

"I trust you are comfortable?" he asked politely, his tone only slightly stiff. Kili hid a yawn behind his hand. He was trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, no doubt a result of eating too much too quickly after going so long without.

"Not bad, far as prisons go," he answered sleepily. "I'll probably get tired of it after a while, though." Kili thought a moment, brows knit. "So, why are you so curious about how we're all doing? I don't think any of us fancy this is some sort of inn. We're not paying customers."

Legolas scoffed. "Yes, I was considering opening a business. I wanted to know if the facilities were up to snuff." Huffing laughter as he shook his fair head, the elf smiled faintly. "Is it so strange that I want to ensure our guests are at least moderately comfortable?"

Kili shrugged. "I don't know. Just a bit odd, I guess. Not what I expected. Then again, neither is your pretty captain." He grinned cheekily.

Legolas' smile vanished, and his stance shifted slightly, defensive tension pervading his lean body. Kili was treading on dangerous ground. "I would be careful if I were you, Dwarf." The elf kept his tone polite, but his fingers itched to draw his knives. "Don't speak of her as though she were some common bar-maid."

"Oh, no, you mistake me," Kili said, his smile fading a little, "she's anything but. She's..." He trailed off, looking equal parts dreamy and exhausted. "Well, she's something special. Not that she'd give _me_ the time of day."

Legolas' defensive stance persisted, and it dawned on Kili he might not be the only one with eyes for the red-haired beauty. He looked down, nervously plucking at a fraying thread in his tunic. He'd let his amorous leadings get the better of him, and now he was regretting it. The burning intensity of the silence from the others told him they'd heard everything. When the elf left, he was going to catch it.

Legolas's stride was stiff as he departed. That... _dwarf_ had the nerve to think of _his_ Tauriel, as though he actually had some shadow of a chance with her? Not that _he_ did. The elf prince took a calming breath as he descended the stairs. She was not his. She wasn't anyone's. Tauriel was too independent, too free, to belong to anyone.

Fili let the silence sit for a minute, making sure the elf actually had time to be really gone. "Kee..." He wasn't terribly happy about any of this, but honestly, he was more confused than angry. "What was that about?"

Kili's mind raced to concoct a believable explanation. "Just trying to... get a rise out of him. He's smitten with her- obviously. I figured he'd leave us alone if... if I embarrassed him. Got him to admit his weakness." He smirked. "Poor sap. Feeling probably isn't mutual. A beauty like her deserves, well... a prince!"

"A prince? Like you, you mean?" Fili's tone darkened slightly. He hadn't bought a word of his brother's story. Pressing his face against the bars of his cell door, he wished he could see Kili.

Kili sighed, settling against the wall nearest his brother. "No… not like me. I'm no prince. I'm… a disgrace."

Thorin spoiled the young dwarf's brief pity party. "What's in your head, Kili? Why would you…?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle!" Kili blurted, feeling tremendously guilty. "I… I was just trying to change the subject. He meant to trip me up, make me reveal more about… well, you know. I… was just using his own weakness against him. Was that so wrong?"

Thorin leaned into the corner of the bars nearest Kili's cell. "You should have held your peace. He's clever, that one. Thranduil's son. The crown prince. As casual as his questioning seemed, there was a method to it." The dwarf frowned, resting his forehead against the door. "And another thing: if you have any 'feelings' for this she-elf, end them now. You will not make a mockery of Durin's line. Not any more than has already been made. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Uncle." Kili huddled into a mortified ball. The reprimand itself was embarrassing enough; the fact that it was given within hearing of the entire Company… that was worse.

"Don't feel too bad about it," murmured Fili, so the others wouldn't be able to listen in as easily. "This isn't the stupidest thing you've done. And besides, we caught it early, so it won't be too hard to fix."

* * *

It was very late that night when the captain of the guard made her rounds again. Tauriel was less than pleased. She'd failed to turn up even the slightest trace of a fourteenth member of the dwarves' Company. She was suspicious that they had made up this "Billa" character just to send them on a wild goose chase.

Most of the dwarves were quietly asleep in their cells, which was a relief. With quiet steps, she moved along the walkway, checking each of their doors to make sure they were firmly shut and locked. When she paused outside of Kili's cell to test his door, she saw his eyes gleaming out of the darkness, and hesitated, struck with confusion. This was the one that had watched her so eagerly when she captured the two of them- this one and the blond one.

Kili was keenly aware of the fact that the others might overhear him if he spoke even a word to the she-elf. Fili wasn't a heavy sleeper, even when he was exhausted. Still, the young dwarf felt drawn, as if by some irresistible force, to speak to her. To say something. Anything. Against his better judgment, he gave into temptation.

"Looking for something, milady?" he asked softly, leaning away from the wall toward the bars of his door. Even in the dim torchlight, she was a vision, her fair face framed by lustrous locks of red hair, her eyes like twin emeralds newly cut and polished. Tauriel glanced down the walkway cautiously. Fraternizing with "the enemy" wasn't exactly how she'd planned to spend her shift, but if she could get information...

"Nothing that exists in this realm," she answered cryptically, her green eyes returning to Kili's shadowed face. He really wasn't as repulsive as she thought a creature that lived underground ought to be. A bit short, for sure, but not... entirely unelven, which surprised her. Kili shifted, scooting a little closer to the door.

"And in what realm will you find what you're looking for? It's not... in these woods?" His heart pattered a little more forcefully in his chest, both with the thrill of her presence and the possibility of someone overhearing him.

The she-elf hesitated, looking at him with a distant, measuring expression for a long time, motionless, her pale fingers still curled around the tarnished metal bars. At length, she took a step back and tilted her face upward, as though searching for the stars. Of course, this far under ground, it was a fool's errand. With a sigh, Tauriel turned her gaze on Kili again.

"I don't know." A faint smile crossed her features. "As much as I enjoy any excuse to walk under the trees again, I don't much appreciate being sent after a member of your Company that has apparently evaporated into thin air." Her keen eyes were on him, watching for the slightest reaction to this bit of news. Kili grinned, though she could see a faint edge of tension in his face.

"Well, it isn't like we didn't try to tell your fawning princeling. Could've saved yourselves some time and trouble if he'd listened." Tauriel's green eyes narrowed. He'd crossed a line.

With a bow, deeper than one might have expected, she murmured, "If you'll excuse me, my _prince_," and departed, testing the doors of Fili's and Bofur's cells as she passed. When she'd gone and it was silent again, Kili caught the rustling of movement in the next cell.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to, Fili," he stammered in a half-whisper, leaning against the wall again. "She... it was a mistake. Please don't tell Thorin." The rustle of fabric against stone came to his ears as his brother shifted again.

"You're being stupid about this, Kee." Fili kept his voice very low, hoping not to wake the others. "But this time, at least, you actually got good information." They hadn't found Billa. The blond sighed deeply. He worried about his little brother and his amazing capacity for not thinking before he acted. He worried about himself, when he failed to think. Durin's Heir... he felt the weight of it more than he used to. It scared him. "Try to keep your mouth shut next time, Brother. You didn't give anything away this time, but 'a pretty face bewitches the mind,' and all that."

* * *

Thorin woke at pre-dawn. All but two of the lamps lighting the dim chamber had been snuffed, and the cell was very dark. He'd been dreaming. About Billa. Was this the first time? He couldn't decide. It seemed so familiar. She'd been telling him she missed him, asking him to "come back."

_She looked worried. More worried than I'd seen her before._

_"Come back, Thorin." Was she crying? I couldn't tell._

_"But I'm not the one missing." Confused, that's what I was. She was the one that hadn't turned up yet. The elves hadn't found her. But... that was a good thing, wasn't it? It was like she could hear my thoughts. She smiled._

_"Don't worry about me, Thorin. Fierce as a dragon, remember? Besides, I killed a rabbit all by myself. I'll be alright."_

_"A rabbit?" I shook my head in wonder. She looked so proud of herself. "You've killed _giant spiders_, Billa. A rabbit's nothing compared to that." I paused, realizing with an uncomfortable jolt that it was highly improper for me to be calling her by her given name. "Uh- Miss Baggins, I mean."_

_Her smile grew wider. I'd seen that smile before. She was trying not to laugh. "It's alright. I don't mind. Really. You're always so stiff and formal; you really should lighten up." Had she always had dimples? She was reaching for my hand. "I like it when you smile." Her little fingers slid over my palm to my wrist, pulled me closer to her. Before I had even the faintest idea what she was up to, she'd kissed me. Pulled me down and kissed me. I couldn't believe it, but it felt so... real._

He found himself clinging to the strange dream. As if it were _more_ than that. As if it were comprised of memories, and not just a few snippets of conversations and his own private fancies. The kiss... it made his chest tighten, thinking of it.

_Billa, wherever you are. Please. Come back to me._


	30. Chapter XXX - A Mad Hope

_Thirty_

A day passed without any sign of Billa. Then two. The dwarves grew more and more worried, though they worked hard not to let their captors see. Anxiety filled their waking hours, and more than one dwarf told his neighbor or cellmate of his worries in hushed tones. Billa was their chance to escape. If she was trapped, or injured... or worse...

It was very early in the morning of the third day of Thorin's imprisonment that a faint tapping sound echoed through his cell.

"Thorin?" a hoarse whisper came from the apparently empty walkway beyond his door. Thorin had been dozing fitfully against the stone bench of his cell, and as the familiar voice roused him, he thought for a moment he might have dreamed it. Then it came again, and he was at his door in a heart beat.

"Billa?" he whispered, pressing against the bars to search his limited line of sight. There was no one there. Was he imagining things in _here_ now?

"Oh, thank goodness." It was Billa's voice alright, though hoarse and unhealthy-sounding. "You won't be able to see me just now. I wanted to let you know that I'm here. Sorry it took me so long to get in. Those elves are a _nightmare_ to get past without one of 'em_ hearin'_ me." Her words were becoming a little slurred. She was exhausted and very, very hungry.

Thorin reached through the bars, his heart thudding heavily. He still couldn't quite believe she was here. Was this real? How could she have made it past the Elves unnoticed?

"Billa, are you alright?" He didn't bother correcting himself this time. "Are you hurt?" A small, clammy hand slipped between his outstretched fingers. An invisible hand that gave his thumb a shaky squeeze.

"No more hurt than anyone else, I think," she whispered. "I need to find food before I do something stupid. I'll be back." With that promise and another squeeze of his thumb, the hand slipped away, and nearly silent footsteps retreated down the walkway, uneven with Billa's tell-tale limp.

Thorin was left to ponder just what sort of sorcery the dauntless halfling had at her command. She'd been invisible. How? It was impossible. Wasn't it?

Balin appeared at his cell door a moment later, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "What was that? Were you talking to someone just now?"

Thorin hesitated. _Oh, yes, Balin. I was just talking to an invisible halfling._ Could he have been imagining her? Ordinarily, he would have trusted his own senses. After what had happened in the forest a few days previous, he wasn't so sure.

"I... may have been," he said, cautiously. "But I don't know." He shook his head, frustrated and relieved and confused. He didn't know _how_ to feel. "I never would've believed her capable of... vanishing like that. But it would explain some things."

Balin frowned, struggling to filter the implications of Thorin's words through a muddled, sleepy mind. "You mean... Billa?" The white-haired dwarf shook his head, trying to clear it. "You think she was here?" He wasn't sure Thorin was making any sense, but he trusted his king above a great many other things. The walkway was deserted, and as far as he could tell, there weren't any elves lurking on the steps below their cells, either. "What's going on, lad?"

Thorin knew he sounded like an idiot, but was too overwhelmed to care. "Billa. She was here. Her voice..." He trailed off. "She sounded... she didn't sound like herself at all. Said she was going to get food. But... she wasn't there. She was invisible. And yet, I felt... she touched me." Thorin sank to the floor. It was taking him some time to process this. Mostly, he feared he was going raving mad. "Is it possible, Balin? Could it have been her?"

Balin hesitated. Had Thorin finally cracked?

"Is it possible? Well... I suppose so. But it's not very likely." The old dwarf paused uncertainly, wishing there were a more delicate way to put this and hoping the others were still asleep. The chances that they weren't listening were very low. "Are you... alright, Thorin?"

Thorin took a deep breath, wincing into his fist. "I don't know, Balin. I honestly don't know." He'd never felt so uncertain in his life. He'd begged Billa to return, and she had. Or had he dreamed it up like the last time he'd seen her? Wishful thinking? He didn't know what to believe anymore. One thing was certain: he had to get free of this place. Not knowing what was real and what wasn't was not doing his pragmatic mind any favors.

"Balin, am I being a fool for holding firm? Should I... seek a deal?" His voice was low enough that he hoped the others wouldn't hear. They needed leadership from him, decisiveness. Not self-doubt.

Balin didn't answer immediately. As was his wont, he considered the options before them very carefully before speaking in slow, measured tones. He wanted to steady Thorin, to bring him back to himself.

"If it were my choice to make," he said softly, "I would think on it another day or so before taking action. This may be a dream that will pass away in morning light, or it could be real. Either way, time will tell." He nodded slightly, though he knew Thorin couldn't see him. "If Billa was here, she will come back. I've no doubts about that."

Kili tapped lightly on the wall separating him from Fili. "Did you hear that?" he whispered, his tone surprisingly somber. "Is Uncle...?" He couldn't speak aloud the words he'd intended to. Calling into question the sanity of the Company's leader, their bastion of strength- the one Kili admired most in the world- was no easy matter. But as it stood, what else could they all make of it?

Fili wasn't sure he was willing to answer out loud, but at a lack of any away to gesticulate to his brother, he did. "Yeah. I heard." The blond was deeply concerned. The halfling's absence had been hard on all of them, especially Thorin- maybe it was time to simply admit the possibility that she wasn't coming back. Time to be honest with themselves.

"It was probably just a dream," he assured Kili, determined not to believe, or even think that Thorin was possibly... unstable.

Bofur, on Fili's other side, was a little less optimistic. "Well, that's that, isn't it? At least we had a good run, eh, lads?"

Thorin caught Bofur's words and snapped toward the wall. "I'll not allow that kind of talk. This venture goes on, whether I'm to lead it or not." He sighed. "Since it seems you've all caught the pith of my conversation just now, I'll say this. What I saw may or may not have been real. In this place, I cannot know _anything_ for certain. The Elvenking commands great sorcery, and could doubtless make any of us see what he wishes. If Miss Baggins has not returned, I'm inclined to believe that is all this is. But... if this _is_ madness..." He swallowed, recalling all too vividly his own father's madness, the raving and belligerence that ended in his disappearance. "If my senses can no longer be trusted, there is no point in my continuing to lead. That task will go to Dwalin, Balin and... Fili." The implications of this hung in the air a moment, and Thorin could only imagine the bewildered look on his nephew's face (and quite possibly most of the others').

Fili couldn't believe his ears. Horror and gratitude warred within him. When he spoke, it was with the strong tone his mother had taught him to use when he was trying to convince others that his words were true. "It won't be necessary, Uncle. I believe you."

"Then yer both mad!" snapped Bofur. "I'm not gonna follow-"

"Bofur!" Bombur's pained outcry silenced his brother quite effectively.

The day was quiet and sullen after that. Balin continued to speak to Thorin in hushed tones, though his king's responses were sparse at best. Each dwarf was occupied contemplating the changes that might take place in their Company, should Thorin have really gone mad. Most hoped he hadn't.

"Balin." Dwalin's rumbling growl interrupted his white-haired brother. "We need to make a plan."

Balin glanced at his door doubtfully. The elves would be listening. It was hardly past noontime- or he thought so. His internal clock wasn't as accurate as it had been. "Yes, Brother?"

"The burglar's a lost cause. We need to start planning an escape without her." The implications were clear and devastating. They couldn't count on Billa. They couldn't count on Thorin. _It's up to us._

"Speak more softly, Brother," Balin urged, leaning against the wall nearest Dwalin. "These Elves could hear a whisper in the wind a mile distant."

Thorin was sitting, his back to the cold stone bench again, head lowered to his drawn-up knees. He caught much of the conversation that ensued between the two dwarves beside him, or at least, Balin's side of it. The thought that _Dwalin_ doubted him, that _Dwalin_ had given up on him, was unbearable. He wanted to be angry- his heart was awash with the tight burning of rage- but he didn't know where to direct his anger except back at himself. After all, he was the one who'd compromised the venture. He was the one going mad, mad with his longing to see Billa again. His desire for her to be safe. His need for her to be beside him. Such misguided passion could wreak havoc on even the firmest of wills, the most focused of minds. Why? That was the question he returned to again and again. _Why_ had he allowed her to gain such a hold over him?

Kili stared mournfully at the floor. He felt as though the ground beneath his feet had crumbled and he was plummeting into some dark abyss. If he'd taken anything or anyone for unshakably strong, for certain, for an anchor in the dark, stormy seas of the wide world, it was Thorin. His uncle was the closest thing he and Fili had had to a father since their own had fallen in the Battle of Azanulbizar, long, long ago. _Gone mad? If Uncle's gone mad, then we're all doomed._

* * *

The darkness seemed to deepen as night set on, even in the dungeons of the Woodland Realm. The elves walked their rounds less often, and after the evening meal was delivered, there were sometimes hours between the patrols. It was into this gloomy silence that the whisper came again.

"Thorin!" The tapping of an invisible fingernail against the bars of his door. "Thorin, are you awake?"

Thorin wasn't asleep. Hadn't been able to do more than lapse into a feverish stupor where the same furious thoughts and emotions ran in a continuous loop around his brain. In all truth, he'd become something of a wreck, his nerves on edge, his heart a heavy iron weight in his chest. When he heard the tapping, the voice, he sighed into his hands, scoffing at himself. There he was, going off again. Mad as a loon. After the soft tapping came once more, he sat up a little.

"Thorin?" It was her voice. She sounded more herself now, less exhausted and threadbare. He wanted it to be her, more than anything. He'd never known until she was gone from his side just how much he missed her, needed her beside him. Needed to know she was safe, protected. A fine job _he'd_ done of that.

At last, resigned to confirm what he'd so vehemently been denying, he pushed himself wearily to his feet and stepped to the door. As expected, there was no one there. The light was dim, but it was nonetheless very plain she wasn't there. The walkway on either side, far as he could see, was empty of anything, even the barest hint of a shadow.

"Billa?" he said faintly, feeling rather hollow and numb at the prospect of his own fears being confirmed beyond doubt.

"I'm here." The halfling's tone was relieved, her voice stronger now that she'd rested and eaten. "Sorry I didn't come sooner. This place is crawling with elves. You'd think they _lived_ here or something." There was a smile in her words, despite the hushed whisper she was using.

"Billa?" Balin was at his door now, peering out at the apparently empty walkway. "What-?"

"Not now, Balin," said the invisible hobbit. "I'll explain later. Right now, it's best if I-"

"Baggins?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Billa appeared as suddenly as if she'd just dropped the blanket she'd been hiding under. She was just finishing a gesture, her hands flying violently apart. There was a glint of gold between her fingers as she scowled at them. "Yes, I'm here. I'm alive. Yes, I was invisible. Personally, I think I can hang around a little longer if the elves can't see me, don't you?"

"What's that?" Balin was looking at her hand, a troubled frown on his face.

"It's the ring that makes me invisible." Billa's tone was exasperated now.

"But where-"

"No, Dwalin. I'll explain when you're not in a jail cell, but for now, _be quiet_."

Thorin looked as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Shaking his head in wonder, he reached through the bars, taking the halfling's little hand in his own as if to reassure himself that she was actually there before him. A now-familiar thrill ran through him, replacing much of the anxiety and tension that had coursed through his veins but moments before. She was very real. That didn't mean he wasn't as puzzled as the others as to her mysterious powers of invisibility, but for now, he was too heady with relief to be overly concerned. He felt a resurgence of the faith and trust he'd developed in her, the halfling who had ever been more than met the eye.

"You came back." His tone was hard to read. There was fierce emotion in it, to be sure, and gratitude. Amazement, perhaps. "You came back, Billa."

Billa rolled her eyes, smiling incredulously at him. "Of _course_ I came back, Thorin! What, did you expect me to just lay down and die out there in the forest? Honestly, I can't leave you lot alone for ten minutes without-"

She stopped suddenly, her gaze flitting toward the stairs, ears twitching. She slipped the ring back on, giving Thorin's hand a squeeze before releasing him and pressing herself against the wall. Thorin was close enough- he could hear her slow her breathing, hoping not to be detected.

Less than a minute later, a pair of dark-haired elves came into sight. One of them frowned suspiciously at the dwarves as they passed, but neither seemed interested in asking questions. Their prisoners often talked amongst themselves, after all, and it wasn't unusual for them to stop talking when guards approached.

When the elves had gone, the silence stretched on for a few tense seconds. Kili's sleepy voice was the first to break it.

"What's going on?" He'd been roused by the faint whispering, which had grown rather intense before ceasing altogether, and was now rather confused. He'd thought- of course, he reckoned he might have imagined it- that he'd heard _Billa's_ voice.

"I dunno," answered Fili, unnecessarily. "Think they found something?" He was further from their uncle's cell than his brother, and couldn't hear any of the whispering distinctly enough to identify them.

"Hush," whispered Bombur. "Think it's got something to do with Billa."

"With Billa?" asked Bofur, sitting up.

"_Hush._"

Billa let out a shaky sigh. "I'd really like this place if I weren't in danger of getting locked up or stepped on." She took a deep breath and giggled nervously, exhaling as slowly as she could manage.

"What about us?" asked Dwalin in a gruff hiss. "Can you get us out?"

"Well, I don't know yet, do I? Only been here a day. But really, what's the matter, Dwalin? Can't just punch the door until it gives in?" The invisible halfling snickered into her hand before shifting to stand in front of Thorin's cell again. She reached through the bars and gripped his arm firmly. "I'll do some poking around, see what I can find. Getting you out of here won't be easy, but I think we can manage. They're pretty convinced you'll never get out of these cells- only two places are actually guarded; here, and the throne room. We'll see what I can dig up, alright?"

Thorin nodded, still processing. He covered her hand with his own. It was very warm. Warm and soft. For an instant, he was mildly ashamed of how cold and calloused his fingers were.

"Be careful, Billa," he whispered earnestly. "Don't take any unnecessary risks if you can help it. If you're thrown in here with us, we'll be no better off than before." He might've said more to her had the others not been listening, but for the moment, he'd said enough. _Mahal guard you, my little burglar. Would that I could._

Billa's voice held a smile when she answered. "Don't worry, Thorin. You'll see me again soon. Fierce as a dragon in a pinch- remember?" Her hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment longer, then she withdrew it with what sounded like a reluctant sigh. "I'll be back," she whispered, her footsteps all but silent as she moved away, toward the stairs. There was a minute or two of quiet after she was gone. Somehow, the silence didn't seem as oppressive as it had been.

"Billa's back," murmured Ori, grinning at her brother. Nori shook his head and tousled her hair fondly. Dwalin was silent, and Balin, not wanting to deflate their renewed morale, kept his thoughts to himself.

Billa's ring troubled him, and he didn't quite know what to think of it. Perhaps after the dungeons were behind them, he could speak with Thorin on the subject. Until then, he would set those thoughts aside. No use worrying about what couldn't be changed.


	31. Chapter XXXI - Risky Business

_Thirty One_

When morning dawned somewhere far, far from the depths of their cells, most of the dwarves were already awake.

There was a certain amount of cheer in their faces and voices now, though Thorin had given explicit instructions that no one was to speak of Billa or what had happened. Still, they were growing too restless now _not_ to speak, so they talked of other things to pass the time. Balin told old stories of his youth in Erebor and the coming of the dragon. Bofur supplied a song or two, and many an amusing yarn he'd picked up during his travels. The younger dwarves discussed their hopes and fears for the days ahead, sharing a few choice memories from the journey thus far. It was difficult, though, to tell them while omitting all reference to a certain halfling. She'd become such an integral part of their group, they couldn't imagine themselves without her.

"So what's your story, Ori?" Kili asked at last, hoping she wouldn't take offense.

Ori laughed, appreciating the rhyme. "Dori n' Nori refused to leave me behind. Said I would light the mountains on fire or something while they weren't looking."

"Have you _seen_ this dwarrow try to cook?" asked Dori in a pained tone. Ori laughingly told him off for insulting her edibles.

"Besides," added Nori, nudging his sister, "I seem to recall you begging to come with us."

"It wasn't _begging,_ exactly," protested Ori, blushing. She didn't want the others to think she was _entirely_ helpless.

"Well, you certainly hid your... femaleness very well," Bofur said, grinning. "But now that we all know, it's rather amazing, really, how we were fooled as long as we were. If you don't mind me sayin', you're a right pretty lass."

There was a sputtering sound from the direction of her cell, and Nori burst out laughing. "I think she fancies you, Bof. She's just turned about five shades of red."

"I do not!" Ori said, a little too loudly.

Bofur chuckled. "Aye, well, can the lass be blamed? Mother always said_ I_ was the handsome one." Bifur muttered something in Khuzdul, and Bombur shrugged.

"Handsome or no, I've a pretty wife back home I love more'n any food you could tempt me with." The fat dwarf sounded enormously proud and pleased with himself.

"Aye," Bofur said again, nodding seriously. "Can see that. How many dwarrows ya have now, Brother? Was it nine or ten? Lost count a while back."

Bombur grinned hugely. "Eleven. And expectin' another."

Tauriel accompanied the elves that brought them lunch, pacing quietly along in their wake. She paused at each door to look in at the dwarven occupants. When she reached Thorin's cell, she paused for a long moment, a faint smile curving her lips. She looked almost satisfied. Knowing. Without a word, she moved on. Thorin frowned at her as she passed, disliking very much her satisfied manner. What could it mean? Nothing good, likely as not. Almost despite himself, he began to fret again in earnest, rueing the list of possibilities his mind concocted with such ease.

When Tauriel reached Kili's cell, the young dwarf was tossing a stone and pretending not to notice her. As the others began to eat, though, making some amount of noise chewing, scraping plates, and rustling about, Kili leaned toward his door, glancing nervously in the direction of Thorin's cell.

"Sorry about... last time, milady," he said softly, looking a little embarrassed. "I shouldn't have been so... well, rude." It was clear he'd had time to regret their former exchange.

Tauriel gave him a startled glance, delicate eyebrows raised. After a beat or two, she pursed her lips and sighed. "You're young," she murmured, inclining her head, "and... forgiven." She didn't think it necessary to lecture him about how much respect a prince deserves. If he didn't know already, her words would teach him little. After another pause, she graced him with a faint smile.

"You aren't what I expected." Her green eyes lit on his face, as though weighing him against some invisible standard.

Kili's heart practically skipped a beat when she smiled at him. He was relieved she hadn't taken his apology the wrong way, or been too proud to accept it. The others were still contentedly slurping their water, munching their bread, and chatting casually amongst themselves, so Kili felt somewhat safe to continue the conversation.

"You're _nothing_ like what I've always thought elves would be. You can trust me on that." He glanced toward Thorin's cell again, and turned back to Tauriel. "You've been... very kind to us. Kinder than we've been to you. Barring the whole 'imprisonment' bit," he added, grinning. "May I... may I ask for your name?"

She wasn't sure whether or not to answer at first. After a moment, she nodded slowly. "Tauriel. And... you?" It occurred to her that other than Thorin, she didn't know any of their names.

There was something of a lull in the others' conversations, and Kili hesitated. His desire to obey his Uncle was warring with his need to speak with this elf, his need to keep her here.

"I'm Kili," he whispered so softly he was sure only an elven ear could have caught it, knowing well that if she replied in anything close to a normal volume, he'd be sunk. "Your name is beautiful. What's it mean? I don't... speak any Elvish," he admitted sheepishly, even though he was fairly certain she wouldn't be the least bit surprised.

Her stance was relaxing now, her lips curling into a more genuine smile, green eyes warming. Tauriel chuckled faintly, a sound like water over smooth stones. "It means 'daughter of the forest,'" she told him softly, noting his nervousness. He clearly didn't want to be overheard. He was like a youngling, afraid of getting in trouble. In a way, he was. The elf hadn't thought he would be so easy to talk to. Just then, glancing along the walkway to check on the others, she spotted the blond in the adjacent cell, watching her distrustfully. Tauriel's smile disappeared. Distrust and dislike walked hand in hand- this was a fact well-known to her. She glanced at Kili, nodded slightly, and turned away.

Kili watched her go, his face reluctant, crestfallen. That was that. She'd gone, left him as lonely and empty as before. Well, almost. He had her name, and a name could fill the mind and heart with hope. He sighed, snatching up his cup and plate and moving quickly to the stone bench at the back of his cell. He was finished with caring what the others thought, he decided, and if they questioned him further, he'd explain he was just trying to win them an ally. _Tauriel._ He was repeating her name silently to himself now, grinning, his food and drink forgotten on his lap.

* * *

Legolas was waiting around the corner, and the look he favored the red-haired elleth with spoke disdainful, disapproving volumes. "Tauriel?" His dark brows knit, and he shook his head. "What were you _doing_?"

Tauriel pulled up, leaning away from Legolas. She'd not anticipated seeing him here. He was supposed to be... somewhere else. The redhead frowned.

"What do you mean?" Though she tried to keep her tone innocent, but knew she wasn't entirely successful. Really, who she talked to was none of his business. Immediately, Tauriel regretted the thought. She bowed her head slightly. "I was speaking with one of the dwarves, my prince."

Legolas crossed his arms, turning away from her. "Did you learn anything... of use?" His tone was unnervingly flat, but a faint edge of annoyance joined it at the very end.

"His name is Kili," she responded softly. "I think he would be willing to talk more freely now... he seemed to think I was nice. For an elf." The captain sighed and lifted her head. Legolas turned back, his blue eyes burning into her as he watched her, and she wondered, not for the first time, what his feelings were for her, and whether or not his father knew. She couldn't help feeling a tad guilty for making him so upset. She didn't like seeing the prince so stiff and angry. Angry princes were liable to do stupid things that put princely necks at risk.

"You seemed to be enjoying the exchange a little more than necessary," the blond replied sullenly. "You never smile like that for..." He trailed off. The word "_me_" hung in the space between them.

Tauriel's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, then she turned her face away from him. "My apologies, my prince." She didn't know what else to say. This was a stupid thing to get upset about, but she couldn't tell him that. "I'm to check the lower dungeons. If you'll excuse me..." She bowed slightly and edged past him. The lower dungeons were all empty, of course, but it was part of the rounds the prison guards walked. It was part of the prison.

Legolas watched her go, his chest in a bind. For untold years she'd been his captain. He'd protected her. Stayed by her side. Shared the art of training, combat, duties. Watched her. Yes. Watched her. Wished he could do more than that. Oh, how he'd wished. How he'd toyed with the idea of, well, broaching the subject. Becoming more than prince and captain, prince and subject. Didn't she _know_? Hadn't it been obvious enough for her? A frown fixed firmly on his face, he rounded the corner to the dwarves' cells, stalking up to Kili's cell. The dwarf was sitting on his bench at the back, his eyes glimmering inquisitively in the gloom.

Legolas eyed the dwarf for a moment. Accusing him outright wouldn't do at all. Too easy.

"What, exactly," the elf asked in a dangerous tone, " do you expect to achieve with her?" Kili was a bit stunned, pulled from his pleasant reverie into a decidedly unpleasant reality. Ah. The prince had come. Perhaps she'd told him herself. Told him he'd been bothering her. The thought was somewhat jarring. He'd thought she'd been... receptive, at least. Well.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Kili said, after he'd recovered somewhat. He took a casual sip of water. "What do you mean?"

Legolas leaned closer to the bars, keeping his hands neatly clasped behind him, as much for appearances as to stop himself trying to reach through the bars and strangle the dwarf.

"I would say you were playing dumb, but I doubt it's a game for you." His tone was viciously scathing, his cheeks slightly flushed, eyes blazing with jealous outrage. "Whatever you might think, you have no right, and no chance. If you know your own fortune, you'll not speak to her again." Kili put up his hands in surrender, fighting back a grin. If he didn't have a vested interest in this discussion, he would've found the elf's behavior... absurdly entertaining.

"Alright, Prince. Calm down a little before you hurt yourself. I honestly don't know what you're so upset about. If she didn't want to talk to me, she didn't have to. You'll notice that _I'm_ the one in a cell. She could've walked away anytime she wanted to."

If there is one one thing that can make jealous indignation and proud anger even worse than they already are, it's proving them absolutely pointless. Legolas knew Kili was right, and that made him even angrier. He was mad at Kili for being an interloper (and succeeding!), at himself for being stupid and helpless, and at Tauriel, for daring to choose a dwarf over a prince of her own kind. He straightened, and his expression was most unattractive.

"Don't test your luck, Dwarf. I have it in my power to make your stay significantly less pleasant."

Kili frowned at the elf, but nodded. "Duly noted, Prince." He sensed a wisecrack wouldn't go down very well at the moment, and left it at that. When Legolas had stalked away again, the chamber was completely silent for five tense seconds, other than the continuous rushing of the nearby waterways. Kili cringed in anticipation. When Thorin finally did speak, though, it wasn't with blustering anger. Just something like deep disappointment, which was far worse.

"Explain yourself, Kili."

The young dwarf moved slowly toward the bars of his door, head down. So much for not caring what the others thought. "Uncle," he said finally, "I know what I'm doing."

"Well, this would be a first. Would you mind sharing?"

"I'm befriending an elf. There. I said it. Winning us an ally. She's-"

"The Captain of the Guard," Thorin interposed sharply, "not some ordinary underling. Besides that, she's the darling of the crown prince. He asked a question I'd very much like you to answer: what do you hope to accomplish with her?"

Kili hesitated. "I don't know. But I have to... _try_, at least. I see an opportunity, and I'm working with it. None of the rest of you have any real plans!"

"Thorin." Balin's steady voice put a temporary halt to the storm brewing between uncle and nephew. "The boy has a point. I say we let him try. If he fails, we're none the worse. If he succeeds, all the better." The wise dwarf paused a moment. "But," and the word hung like a precariously-balanced boulder, "he should be aware that this ought to be an attempt at friendship only. Any hope of romancing the she-elf is folly, and will end only in pain."

Kili swallowed heavily. That was his fear. But he wasn't "romancing" her so much as, well... he wasn't sure what to call it. All he knew was his heart beat a feverish pace in his chest when he thought of her, and she was the loveliest, wisest creature he'd ever met. He just needed to work on getting her to lighten up a bit.

Thorin tightened his grip on the cold metal bars. "But with their _captain_, Balin? She may be using him, trying to gain information. She's not the tender lady she looks; she has craft." He shook his head slowly. "Besides, why would she be interested? What does he have to offer her? He's a dwarf, and to the elves, we're nothing. Our lives are but ships passing in the night. They know this well. There is no reason she'd seek friendship with him for its own sake."

"Craft can be used against craft, my king," said Balin humbly. "While she tries to gain information about us, perhaps we can gain information about them." He wouldn't point out that there were folk of any of the three civilized races (four, counting hobbits) that, unlike Thorin, sought friendship for the pleasure and good company it offered.

"Is it possible," asked Ori hesitantly, from Thorin's other side, "that she really is as nice as she seems? I mean, she hasn't insulted us or anything that I've heard."

"Aye," said Dwalin in a mildly scathing tone, "she could be nice as ye please, lass. Or maybe she already has somethin' hangin' over our heads, just waiting for the right moment to drop."

Thorin turned away from the door. "Do as you please, Kili. Have a care, though, what you say. Lives and fortunes may depend on what words 'accidentally' escape your lips. Remember also the threats of the elven prince."

Kili nodded. "Yes, Uncle." Well, one obstacle had fallen, at least. But he knew better than to be relieved. Life had gotten, suddenly, much more complicated than he preferred. He could nearly _feel_ Fili's gaze boring into the wall beside him. "I'm not going to get carried away," Kili promised in an undertone. "I'm just trying to befriend her, see what happens."


	32. Chapter XXXII - Clandestine Visits

_A/N: Loving all your great reviews! __Thanks especially to **Just4Me**, **UKReader**, **FleurSuoh**, **SnowLeopardSwan251**, **Noya**, **Owlkin**, and **dearreader**. (**Dearreader**, we're pleased to say we understand that reference! "Look back at me" is quite possibly our favorite line from _North and South_.) __We've really been enjoying the feedback. Sorry for the long delays between posts; life has been pretty crazy lately. Hope to get back to a two-day gap between updates soon. _

_Thirty Two_

The hours passed slowly for the dwarves. Though they tried to strike up the cheerful banter that had entertained them before, nothing could quite cover the tension between Thorin and Kili. Not that any of the rest of them were thrilled about Kili's choice of friends, but it was a little less immediate for them.

As the evening patrols moved past their cells, Tauriel returned, seeming somehow more upset than before. Her eyes were hard as the gems Kili fancied they resembled, and her hand strayed often to the knife at her side. As before, she checked each of the cells, but paused by Kili's door. The hardness in her eyes faded slightly, becoming more an expression of concern.

"I don't know how you've done it," she whispered, so softly that she almost couldn't be heard, "but there have been suspicious goings on. Doors left ajar, food missing from the pantry, items disturbed in the armory." Her gaze sharpened again, concern turning to mild frustration.

Kili looked a bit startled, moving quickly toward the door. "Tauriel." He couldn't quite disguise the adoration that filled his face, as if he hadn't noticed the accusatory nature of her words at all. Then it _did_ register, and his features tensed a little. "Oh. Well, _I_ didn't do it, I swear. Trust me, if I'd been raiding your pantries, you'd have probably caught me by now. Stealth isn't really my thing." He grinned. "Sure you don't have have some really clever, really _big_ rats?"

Tauriel's frown deepened. "Kili, it doesn't take an elf to know when there's an intruder in our midst. I won't ask you to tell me who it is- I doubt you'd tell me even if I did." She hesitated a beat, then touched the bars of his door, as though trying to steady herself. "When you see your burglar next, warn him. Thranduil is not kind to those he views as thieves." She held his gaze a moment longer, noting his surprise, then stepped back, turning to move down the walkway as though nothing had happened.

Kili sighed, watching the swish of her green linen dress as she moved back down the walkway. Why would she...? Was she trying to help them? Or lure them into trusting her? He remembered Thorin's words about her being more than she seemed. Crafty. He felt... intimidated by her presence now, and he hadn't really felt that way before. All the same, he couldn't bear to see her walk away. _Tauriel, please. Don't go._ He realized too late he'd spoken his plea out loud.

Tauriel froze. It had been many, many years since anyone had called her name so plaintively. Not since she was young. She was standing between the cells occupied by the fat dwarf on one hand, and a bald, hulking warrior on the other. Both were looking at her as she turned her head, looking over her shoulder at Kili's door. A handful of seconds passed silently, and she knew that every dwarf in the Company was listening and watching, intently as you please. Kili cleared his throat nervously, barely able to hold the elf's gaze.

"I'm... sorry," he said at last, reaching up to worry with one of his braids (he'd just redone them). "I... I just... well... I was hoping you'd stay... a little longer." He'd never been so tongue-tied, and he felt like an idiot. Even more so because the entire Company was listening to him fumble for words like he'd suddenly been stricken dumb.

Tauriel turned completely, a most curious expression on her statuesque face. As though she'd not quite believed him, but couldn't decide whether it was a trap or a joke. Slowly, her gaze shifted to Dwalin, who was closest.

"Is he in earnest?" she asked softly, lifting her eyebrows slightly. Dwalin scowled at her and didn't answer, but Bombur smiled uncertainly.

"Aye, ma'am, I think he is." The corpulent dwarf acknowledged her gaze, as she turned it on him, with a slight shrug. Tauriel then looked at Kili, studying him for a long, silent moment before speaking.

"Later," was all she said, before turning on her heel and striding away. She paused by Thorin's cell to give him an apologetic glance, but found that he refused to look at her. The elf sighed and moved on. She should have known better than to hope friendliness in a few individuals meant a change of heart in their iron-willed leader.

Kili sighed, uncertain how to take her response. The way she'd looked at him. There was something to it. She'd seemed genuinely surprised. Not annoyed or haughtily amused, as she might well have been, but open. Receptive. Maybe it was just the timing. Turning away from the door, he paced back to his bench and sat against it, hugging his knees to his chest. Dwalin began muttering to himself, and scattered, subdued conversation broke out in the other cells, but Kili ignored it.

Thorin leaned against the wall nearest Balin's cell. "You heard what she said? The first part?" Balin confirmed that he had, and Thorin continued. "What do you make of it? They haven't... found her. Have they?"

The white-haired dwarf stroked his beard. "It could have been a threat," he said very quietly, so the others wouldn't hear, "or it might have been a warning. She could be dropping hints to frighten us, or she might genuinely be worried. The elf is hard to read."

Thorin grunted unhappily. He hated subtlety in all its forms, and the wiles of women had ever escaped him. Well, there _was_ Billa, but she was... different. She wasn't about playing games and fainting and coquettishly batting her eyelashes. She had spirit about her, a fire within like to his own. He crossed his arms and sank against the wall.

_ Balin, tell me she's alright._ He wouldn't say it. What was the use of being told only what he wanted to hear, true or not? One thing was certain. If Billa came back, Thorin would have words with her. She was being too reckless, and if the elf captain was to be believed, it might be more than the success of their venture that hung in the balance.

* * *

The evening meal came and went. The lanterns were extinguished for the night, the cell doors checked once more. Night crept in and passed, second by agonizing second. No halfling whisper disturbing the quiet. Though Thorin watched his door intently, nothing happened. Eventually, even he succumbed to the siren song of exhausted sleep.

If he dreamed, he didn't remember it. He was woken in the morning by the rattle of the plate against flagstones as his meal, or what there was of it, was pushed through the slot under the door. The portions were notably smaller. Doubtless, the prince had heard tell of Tauriel's continued interactions with his nephew. And speak of the she-devil.

Tauriel stood outside his door, her expression deeply serious. "Pray Thranduil has mercy on her," she whispered cryptically.

Thorin sat up slowly, his limbs stiff and achy. Her words took a moment to register, but register they did. His face visibly paled, and there was cold horror in his eyes as he got up and paced to within a few feet of the door, hands clenched into fists.

"What... do you mean?" His voice was a low growl, hate-filled but weak, as if he hadn't the strength to speak any louder. He knew well what she meant, but was trying to determine whether or not she was bluffing. Trying to get a rise out of him. Trying to get him to reveal more of what he knew.

Tauriel studied him, her face impassive. "She's careless," the elf answered, not looking away.

"_She_? What can you possibly be talking about? Who is... she?" It was a lost cause, Thorin knew. He'd never been good at pretense. But the crushing tightness in his chest eased a little. Perhaps they hadn't actually caught Billa yet. The elf was being too ambiguous to tell for certain.

Tauriel inhaled deeply, then sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. She looked almost relieved. Almost. When the captain opened her eyes again, her gaze was as unreadable as before.

"Doesn't line up with what I know of you," she informed him suddenly. "A burglar... stealth isn't the usual course of action for dwarves. Of course, neither is it common for one of Durin's folk to willingly travel with those who aren't dwarves themselves." Tauriel's posture was straight, poised and tense, but not stiff. As though she were ready to deflect an attack.

Thorin glowered at the elf, crossing his arms. "So you've inferred this based on what you know of dwarves. How clever of you." But how had she figured out that Billa was female? Had she somehow overheard it? Or had she inferred that, too, from something else? He couldn't understand why she would come to him if they already had Billa. What was she hoping to achieve? Whatever the case, this didn't bode well at all. If they didn't already have Billa, they would have her soon.

Tauriel watched him, calculating how much more information they could trade. He'd confirmed her guesses so far, though she hadn't expected him to react so strongly. He was attached to the female, then. This 'Billa' was dear to him. Her chest tightened as she took in his stoic expression, fear-grey pallor, and tense, aggressive posture.

"I cannot give you something for nothing, Thorin Oakenshield." The warning was cryptic, but she couldn't afford to be obvious about any of this. Thranduil was too angry to care what these folk felt about this burglar, but she hated grief in all its forms. Death. Pain. Sickness. Helplessness. Thorin looked helpless now. She hated inflicting it on him.

"Be careful." She turned away, her auburn tresses tickling her ears as she strode away. The elf hadn't yet decided what to do about Kili.

The young dwarf followed her with a longing glance, but didn't try to speak with her this time. He sensed something had gone very wrong, something that could jeopardize everything. Something that was far bigger than his secret affections for an elf captain.

Thorin gritted his teeth, desiring nothing more than to bash the door down and find his missing burglar. He was ill-suited to standing by idly when those he was tasked with protecting were in danger. But what could the elf want? Was she looking for some kind of... bargain?

"Balin," Thorin said quietly into the wall, trying to relax some of the tension in his jaw, "what was she getting at? 'Something for nothing'... Is she looking to make a deal?"

Balin shook his head slowly. "I... don't know." He had, of course, listened to the entire conversation as closely as he could, and most of what had transpired between his king and the guard captain had been unnerving. "If I didn't know better, I might say that she was trying to threaten _her_. But they can't have caught anyone. Otherwise, they would be more open about it. Elves love to gloat." Balin furrowed his brow, thinking hard.

From Thorin's other side came another suggestion. "Sounded like she was testing you, almost." Dori's cultured voice was subdued and thoughtful.

Thorin turned, frowning a little. "Explain. Testing? Why would she be testing me?"

"To find out if she can trust you... maybe?" Ori offered hesitantly. "She... didn't seem like she was threatening you. Not to me, at least. It sounded more like she was trying to... _warn_ you."

Thorin shrugged. "Why would she warn me? What does she think _I_ can do?"

Nori nudged his sister with a frown. "You wouldn't think someone was threatening you until they had an ax at your throat."

"No, honestly, if she'd wanted to threaten us, don't you think she'd be a bit more aggressive about it?" Ori wasn't willing to back down just yet.

"Perhaps she wanted us to... warn _her._" Balin sounded doubtful, but that was the ultimate conclusion of that train of thought, wasn't it? "It's the one thing she thinks we have that she doesn't- a way to contact the intruder."

"Well, she's thought wrong, then," said Thorin mournfully. "We don't." He paced to the back of his cell and collapsed on his bench, resting his face in his palms. If he had any power to conjure Billa Baggins, he certainly would have used it long before now.

"I think... she's trying to help us," said Kili hopefully. "I really do. If she thinks we've been talking to you-know-who, why doesn't she have guards posted _here_ at all times, waiting to catch her? Why wouldn't she use that to her advantage?"

"Stuff it, Kili," growled Dwalin. He muttered something that was unclear, involving the words 'lady-friend' and 'perfect.'

"Dwal." Balin frowned reproachfully in the direction of his brother's cell. Dwalin went mercifully silent. He was coping with their captivity only a little better than Thorin was. The warrior was determined to be ready, so he'd developed a strict exercise regimen for himself. He'd never been much for talking anyway.

Fili rested his forehead against the cool metal of the bars and sighed. "I... think Kili's right. If she wanted to take advantage of the situation, she could. But she hasn't."

Thorin was fairly well lost to his own thoughts now. He'd led them all into this, gotten on the wrong side of the Elvenking. Perhaps it was too late now to retract his disparaging words; too late, even, to offer the king what he'd asked and more. It was said wounds to elven pride were not easily healed, and time did not dull the memory of the offense. With Thranduil, at least, the rumor seemed to hold very true. They had little choice now. If Billa had been discovered, or was on the verge of being so, trusting the elven captain was their only hope.

Gloin rapped on Oin's wall. The old healer was dozing, as he couldn't hear anything the others were saying, even with his new ear trumpet.

"Did ya hear that, Brother? The lad's sayin' we should trust the elf lass. Wha' do ya think o' that?"

Oin jerked awake with a snort. "Eh? Wha' was that, Brother?" Gloin repeated the question, louder (which he got scolded for- "shouldn't yell indoors, lad,"). Oin thought about it a moment, then shook his head. "Well, you can't be a first-rate healer without bein' the trustworthy sort. Elves can't be _all_ bad."

* * *

Late that night, Billa pulled her ring off and sat down heavily, her back against Thorin's door. She hadn't anticipated having so much trouble finding somewhere to sleep. She'd gotten lucky the first day, apparently. Perhaps she would go back to the cellars after Thorin was properly updated. Tapping the door and shifting so her spine was between the bars, the hobbit sighed. This burglaring business was a lot harder than it sounded.

Thorin was up before he was fully awake, lurching across the length of his cell with one leg almost completely numb. He steadied himself against the bars. "Billa? Is that you?" His eyes searched the dim walkway outside in vain, but this didn't squelch his hopes. Of course she wouldn't be visible.

"Down here, O Observant One," she chuckled, reaching backward through the bars and pinching his leg. Naturally, he wouldn't expect her to be visible right off, but wearing this ring all the time was tiring, somehow. As though... Billa frowned. As though she were constantly carrying a great weight.

Thorin recoiled, startled. Then, recovering, he cleared his throat and stepped back to the door, lowering himself onto his haunches and gripping the bars again. "Billa, I..." He felt rather foolish. "I think I'm awake now."

Billa let out a soft snort of laughter. "That's good, 'cause I'm not." With a sigh, she rubbed her eyes tiredly. "This place is _huge,_ Thorin. There have to be at least a thousand strong living here, with enough food and wine stocked to provide for a week-long feast. And their _armory._ Good gracious, I didn't even know what half of those things were."

This mention of her scouting exploits quickly tempered Thorin's relief. "You're not safe, Billa," he whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder. "The elf captain- Tauriel, I think was her name- she knows. She's warned us several times now that they're onto you. You've been careless, Billa." He shifted uncomfortably. "You don't know how I've... worried."

"You? Worried? Ha." Billa didn't sound like she really meant it, but she also didn't sound terribly upset. A violent shiver swept through her, and the halfling sighed, sounding almost like she was on the verge of tears. "The king has ordered the front gate closed and locked. It's guarded day and night, and as far as I can tell, it's the only way in or out of this place. Does this place have a... name...?"

In the midst of the snoring symphony, she thought she'd heard something. Billa sat up, a frightened look on her face as her pointed ears twitched.

* * *

Tauriel shook her head so that her hair, blessedly loose tonight, settled differently across her shoulders. She had a nasty headache trying to take root and had hoped that letting the weight of her hair down for a while might help. It didn't seem to be making much difference, however. The dungeons were filled with the echoes of a chorus of snoring. Some of it, she suspected, had to be faked. No one snored _that_ loud. Still- it was no business of hers. Creeping closer to Kili's cell, she peered through the bars. He was probably asleep. It was worth checking, though.

Kili had been unusually restless tonight already, so Billa and Thorin's conversation, even though it hadn't been by any means loud, had roused him. Seeing a familiar face glowing in the spare lantern light outside his cell, he shot up off the pile of outer clothing he'd been using as bedding, moving softly to the door. Tauriel looked different, somehow, and he realized it was because she was wearing her hair loose. Not only that, but she wasn't in her typical guard attire. She wore only a flowing green dress that followed the curve of her body perfectly, accentuating her womanly figure. He'd never thought she could look any more beautiful- apparently, he'd been wrong. She was stunning. He stood a moment at the bars, his amazement plain on his face, before mastering himself.

"You're... you look lovely, milady," he whispered, smiling pleasantly. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Blooms follow buds." She dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand, looking relieved to see him awake. "I... wanted to talk." Now that it came down to it, Tauriel was a bit embarrassed to admit that she had no real fellows among the guards. She wanted someone she could trust, someone she could just _talk_ to. In all honesty, she had no idea whether or not this dwarf would ever be fully trustworthy, but, shame as it was, he was the closest thing she had to a friend at the moment. At least, she didn't feel like she had to fend off his amorous advances. He was a mere child, and his infatuation would fade. It wasn't a threat, or a burden.

"I suppose I'm disturbing your sleep. Perhaps I should go." She didn't move to stand, opting instead to watch him.

"Oh, no! Not at all." Kili's reply may have come across a little too enthusiastically. And perhaps a little too loudly. He heard incoherent mumbling from Fili's cell and cringed. "Sorry." Kili leaned a little closer to the bars. "All I get in here is sleep. Someone stopping by for a chat is a rare treat." He smiled charmingly. "So what's on your mind?" She wanted to talk. To him. He tried to stay calm and collected, but his brain was racing in all sorts of directions. It was hard for him to focus, or at least to give the impression that he wasn't about to faint with happiness.

"Just... had a headache. Couldn't rest." Tauriel sighed and shifted, propping her chin on her hand. "There are many things that need done. Not the least of which is to capture your beloved burglar." The elf made a queer expression that might have been a form of distaste.

Kili nodded thoughtfully, somewhat pulled from his amorous reverie. "Burglars take some catching, I guess," he said, fidgeting with the ragged hem of his tunic. "If that's what you mean to do, that is." He shrugged. "Or not. I know you don't just blindly follow orders. You have a head on your shoulders. Loyal as you are, you make your own choices." He met her gaze with surprising conviction.

"Look, Tauriel. This venture- this reclaiming of our homeland- it's all my uncle's ever dreamed of. It's all me and my brother have ever wanted. It's a _good_ thing, something even you could get behind, I think." He looked down, shook his head. "Every day that goes by in here, though, is a day wasted, and our chances of getting into the Mountain are lessened. I know you're fiercely loyal, but your king's made a mistake. You may deny it, but I can see it in your face: you've thought about it."

Tauriel sighed heavily and looked away from him. "I heard how the two kings spoke when first Thorin Oakenshield was brought within these walls." Her voice was very distant, and soft enough as to be almost drowned out by the snores of the Company. "They are both proud. Too proud. Proud and hurt and angry. Neither is willing to forgive, or see past his own anger." Sorrow filled her green eyes. There was nothing she could do about either of them.

"Uncle's always been that way," Kili said, unhappily, "and I don't see that changing- leastways not fully- until the dragon's dead and his kingdom is restored. He's too angry, too full of hate. Unwilling to forgive or forget. But... these past few weeks, he's changed. He hasn't been as bitter and angry. It's given me hope that, well, that he _will_ be mended, eventually. Right now, though, he carries too heavy a burden." Kili chuckled quietly, fiddling with his hair beads again.

"Fili and I tried carrying it for a day or so. Didn't work out very well. Got ourselves ambushed by your eight-legged pets. We were lucky that..." He trailed off, looking troubled. He'd almost mentioned Billa. "We were lucky," he concluded simply.

An expression of absolute disgust crossed Tauriel's pale face. "Those... _things!_" she hissed savagely. "They've ruined our beautiful home. This was the Greenwood before they came. We've killed hundreds of them, but there are always more." The fire that had so suddenly filled her eyes died just as quickly, replaced by sadness. "He won't let me lead an expedition to exterminate the damnable things at their source. Neither of them will. And others suffer because of it. The Shadow in Dol Goldur grows by the day, and they do _nothing._"

As quickly as it blazed and was gone, Kili couldn't help but be affected by the passion in her face and voice. It was clear she felt great responsibility for the fate of the world at large, not just the land within the Woodland Realm's borders. That gave the young dwarf something of an idea. "We heard news of the Necromancer from Beorn. The, uh, skin-changer." She seemed somewhat puzzled, so he quickly explained and then went on.

"Anyway, I heard him and Gandalf talking one night when everyone else was asleep. (Gandalf's the Wizard who's been with us off and on along the way.) They mentioned that the Necromancer and Smaug could potentially join forces." Kili's tone was sober, and it sounded odd, indeed, coming from him. "If we don't defeat the dragon... it could mean the end of the world as we know it. Tauriel, if your king won't listen to reason, then you must stand up for your people. For both our peoples. I'm asking you to help us. Please."

His words were earnest, well-considered, and as he spoke them, he seemed somehow older. More mature. Tauriel was once again surprised by this young dwarf, this child who was not a child. The idea of the Necromancer of Dol Goldur and the dragon Smaug allying themselves was one that touched her heart with cold fear. The elf looked away.

"Mithrandir is not unknown to us," she murmured. "Neither is the Necromancer, may his life be blessedly short." After that, she lapsed into silence, thinking about these things. Kili might be bluffing. Lying, even. But... she didn't think he would. Of course, there was only one way to find out. Tauriel stood slowly, her gaze impossibly distant.

"Too long have we been trapped within our own realm." Turning to Kili, she grasped his hand through the bars. "Tell no one I came. I will return, Kili. When I can." There was new determination in her face. She would patrol the borders, and see for herself. She would test the dwarf's words. She would not let her world fall into Shadow.

Kili smiled, squeezing her hand. "It stays between us, Tauriel." A note of worry crept into his tone. "Be careful. I know you can look after yourself, but all the same…." Her touch was so incredibly soft. He turned her hand over, kissed it gently. He hoped she wouldn't think the gesture forward. "Thank-you, Milady. Be safe."

A smile flitted across Tauriel's face, and she cupped his cheek briefly with cool, slender fingers before turning away. "Thank _you,_ Kili. You're a better friend than I had hoped."

The words drifted softly over her shoulder, and then she was gone. When her nearly noiseless footsteps faded away into the perpetual snoring symphony from the cells (of which Bombur comprised, no doubt, the entire horn section), Thorin rose up from his makeshift bedding, moving softly back toward the door of his cell. Billa had vanished at the first hint of Tauriel's coming, and he didn't know where she may have gone after that. He sighed, kneeling against the bars, and was surprised to hear a gentle snore issue from the open space in front of him. Tentatively, he reached out. His hand brushed the rough corduroy of Billa's coat, and he realized with some amazement that she'd fallen asleep against his door. How far she'd come, this halfling he'd once fancied would die if parted from her own soft bed. He didn't want to wake her, but he didn't have much choice. She wasn't safe where she was; any patrolling guard might stumble over her, and she'd be hard pressed to get away before they had their hands on her.

"Billa," he whispered near where he judged her ear to be, gently jostling her shoulder. "Wake up."

Billa produced a series of soft, snuffling grunts as she returned to consciousness. "Thorin? I... spiders." She shuddered under his hand. "I'm awake." Her fingers were surprisingly cold when they found his hand. Slowly, she rose and shook herself, releasing him in the process.

"I should go." Disoriented, yes, but apparently still aware enough to know what she was about.

"Billa, wait." Thorin still felt odd speaking to what was apparently thin air. He didn't know where to look. "Remember what I told you. Don't do anything unusually reckless. You're invisible, but not invincible. Promise me you'll be more careful, for your own sake, at least." _And mine._

There was a second or two of silence, then, "alright. I'll try." Really, Billa was a little unsettled by Thorin's worry, though not in a bad way. This wasn't at all the reaction she'd expected from him. Still... it was nice to know he cared.

The faint padding of tired, downy feet faded away, and Thorin turned from the door, pacing back to his bedding. Billa was their only hope now. He thought to himself, though, that he couldn't have placed his faith in a worthier creature. Kili seemed to have been cultivating another option, though, and from what Thorin had caught of his conversation with the elf captain, there may or may not have been an offer of help ventured.

Kili had been very free with her, but to Thorin's knowledge, had mentioned nothing of Billa. Even so, it was likely it wouldn't have mattered if he had: he knew nothing of note she hadn't already guessed about their burglar. He'd bristled a little when she had lumped Thranduil and himself together- too stubborn and proud for their own good- but the situation at hand seemed to lend credence to her observation. Thorin had appreciated that Kili seemed to have remembered his stated purpose in befriending the elf, rather than losing himself to his impulses, but all the same, the relationship concerned him. Kili would only be hurt.


	33. Chapter XXXIII - Hit and Miss

_Thirty Three_

Days passed quietly. Billa returned at odd intervals to update Thorin and slip stolen supplies through the bars. Not much, mind you. A packet of herbs here, a pen-knife there. Useful things that might see them through the days after their escape, but nothing that would help them get out. Lockpicks, apparently, would raise too much suspicion if they went missing just now. Tauriel didn't return for several days after her midnight visit to Kili. Legolas, however, lurked in their vicinity fairly often, his anxious blue gaze watching them for any sign that they knew what his captain was up to.

Late one night, however, there was a break to the usual routine. They must have been in the dungeon for two weeks or so by now, but it was hard to keep an accurate track of time when one could neither see the daylight, nor trust one's captors to be truthful about the time of year, let alone the time of day.

Regardless of what the others might think, this was a marvelous idea. The best she'd had in ages. Giggling to herself, Billa snuck along the passage, glad the rushing water covered the sound of her somewhat uneven footfalls. It was funny, she thought, how one walked on one's toes when one was unbalanced.

"Thorin!" she whispered loudly, and found Kili instead, looking curiously out through her, since she was invisible. "Whoops. Wrong cell." Billa giggled again, biting her tongue to quiet herself. "I'm playing a joke," she told the baffled Kili with an invisible grin.

"Billa?" Kili whispered, looking like he couldn't decide whether or not this was funny. It was no less unnerving to _not_ see her when her voice was issuing right in front of him, but right now, it was her behavior that struck him as more peculiar. "A joke? But… Billa, what about the guards?" He glanced at the wall beside him, as if to gather his brother's opinion somehow through the stone barrier, then turned back to the empty, giggling space before him. "Are you alright? What's wrong?" Had she been drugged? She'd never been one to behave like this, least of all when guards could appear at any moment and she was supposed to be finding them a way out of the prison.

"A joke," she agreed, speaking slowly as though he were very thick and hadn't understood her. But even the sound of her words was enough to give away the huge grin on her face. "Better than creamed honey, you'll see. The guards can't. Can't see me." More giggles. Kili tried not to grin, despite his desire to join in her levity. As he leaned a little closer to the bars, he caught the distinct scent of wine. She was drunk! He had to remind himself this was serious- she might be caught. All the same, it _was_ awfully funny.

"Uncle?" he whispered. "It's Billa. She's gotten into the elves' stash."

Thorin pressed himself into the corner of his cell, nearest Kili's he could get. "What? She's there? She's there with you?"

"SHE'S DRUNK!" Kili supplied, too loud. Several voices harshly shushed him. "Sorry."

"Am not!" Billa said in a hushed, insulted tone. Fili winced sympathetically, and thus didn't see the hobbit appear suddenly in front of his brother's cell, looking quite upset. "I am a Baggins of Bag End, and we do not-"

"Wist, Billa, wist. There are guards about, love," Bofur hissed, his expression deeply worried.

The halfling sobered a bit at the reminder, but grumbled and sighed as she meandered down the line of cells. Her wonderful joke. Ruined. Fully visible, she wandered into Thorin's limited field of view, looking disheveled and flushed, carrying what appeared to be an ornate belt-knife. It looked large, as she needed both hands to hold it, but it was really no longer than such a knife ought to be. She paused there and gave Thorin a very hurt look.

"I'm _not,_" she protested, almost too loudly. "I only had a little. No one noticed." Thorin frowned. He'd warned her about being reckless, and here she was... capering about, heady with elven wine.

"Billa," he whispered seriously, looking faintly panicked, "what've you done? You need to sober up. You'll be caught!" He proffered her his water cup through the bars. "Drink this, quick. It'll help."

Billa frowned. "No." Despite the color in her cheeks and her apparently uncontrollable emotions, her gaze was bright with (somewhat misguided) intelligence. "You're always throwing your weight around, telling me what to do. Think you're the biggest plum in the pie."

Thorin leaned against the bars, looking rather taken aback. He cleared his throat and took a moment, trying not to be angry. She obviously wasn't herself.

"Miss Baggins, you're not being reasonable," he said distinctly, eyes hard. He'd reverted to his previous formality with great ease. Perhaps she'd grown too comfortable with him. He was, after all, the leader of the Company. Not just... well, not just whatever else they were to each other. "You're going to get yourself caught, and then we'll all be ruined. This is no time for you to voice such opinions."

"Don't like hearing it from me?" Billa asked fiercely.

Ori's voice, from the cell nearest the stairs, rang out. "Someone's coming!"

Billa frowned in the direction of Ori's cell. She threw the belt-knife over the edge and disappeared. "This isn't the end, Mountain King," her voice came, nearly sing-songy, from the open air. "I'll get my joke yet. And I'm _not_ drunk."

The elves, when they appeared, looked suspicious, but not alarmed. Thorin quickly resumed his place on his bench, leaning back against the wall and shutting his eyes to give the appearance of dozing. The others did what they could to seem casual, some more successfully than others. Kili's fake snoring was painfully obvious, even from several cells away. The elves, though, didn't seem terribly bothered, and went about their routine as usual, checking doors, retrieving plates and cups, and moving off again. When they'd gone, Thorin opened his eyes and pursed his lips pensively. It was the look of someone who wanted very much to be angry, but knew better than to be, and resented that fact. Annoyance, maybe. She'd gone and gotten herself drunk, come to play a prank, insulted him, then ghosted away in the blink of an eye. Would the burglar's surprises never end?

"Well, that was... odd." Balin's words summed up well the collective impression of what had just happened.

The rest of the night was blessedly uneventful, though that didn't stop the dwarves from fretting. When no halfling was added to their imprisoned number, they started to relax a bit. With luck, Billa would have learned her lesson about the wine of the Elvenking. Elven wine was much stronger than that made by Dwarves or Men.

It was on a day that many sounds of merriment and song echoed down from the halls above, not even three nights after Billa's "joke," that the halfling appeared before Bofur's cell with a ring of keys, gesturing for him to keep quiet. She was clearly in possession of all her senses this time, and her hands were as steady as ever. One at a time, she unlocked the doors, releasing the dwarves from their interminable imprisonment. When they were all free, she met Thorin's gaze seriously.

"Yes, I was drunk, yes, I was an idiot. I made a mistake and I hope never to do that again. Now please, follow me. And for goodness' sake, _be quiet_."

Thorin nodded, hardly able to believe this was actually happening. It felt strangely surreal to be passing beyond the iron door that had kept him in his tiny enclosure for so long. For a time, especially after Billa's experiment with the potency of elvish drinks, he had begun to fear the Company would never see the outside of their cells again. He didn't celebrate overly much, though. That would be a bit premature. They weren't free yet. In a hushed tone, he instructed the others to leave their armor and heavy outer garments behind. If the dwarves were to make any attempt at stealth, they would need to dispense with things that would jingle or clank or rustle too much as they walked. Dwalin wasn't at all pleased with the idea of leaving his armor behind, and scowled fiercely at Thorin for a long moment before obeying the order.

Kili, though, looked almost _giddy_ with the excitement and thrill of the escape. He kept nudging Fili and grinning, as if to make up for all the days he and his brother had been kept apart, and more than once the others caught him desperately stifling laughter. The Company proceeded on tiptoe over the various causeways of the subterranean prison, trying to be quiet but often failing miserably and receiving reproving looks and frequent shushings from Billa and Thorin, who were at the head of the group.

The hobbit led them ever downward along deserted pathways and corridors, quickly and surely as if she'd lived in this place her whole life. At last, the Company came, breathing heavily and trying not to be loud about it, to the lower cellars, where barrels were stored and filled and sent down a sloping trapdoor into the river below for transport to the lands beyond. At the moment, though, the trapdoor was closed, and no one who wasn't familiar with the process would have noticed anything suspicious about the ordinary-looking wooden floor on the far side of the room.

"Hold on." Dwalin looked skeptical. He surveyed the room a moment, squinting in the dim lantern-light. "How are we supposed to get out from here? We're in their cellars!"

Billa shushed him frantically, pointing at the two elves, each snoring in harmony with the other over a low, sturdy table. A half-finished bottle of wine sat between them, and two other bottles on the floor beside them, both empty. Gesturing for the dwarves to gather around her, she explained in a hurried undertone.

"There's a river that flows under the Woodland Palace- you've all heard it from your cells. It runs right under this room, and those barrels over there," she pointed to a large stack of barrels, all on their sides and obviously empty, "are to be sent down the river to Laketown. The front gate isn't an option, so I had to find you a back door. Each of you needs to get into one of those barrels, and down the river we go before they can say 'Bob's your uncle.'" She was smiling, but there was anxious tension in her expression as she glanced at the elves again. Dwalin looked entirely unconvinced.

Thorin frowned a little, crossing his arms. This seemed an unlikely plan. "Climb in the barrels?" he whispered. "It's not that I doubt you, but... will we be able to breathe?"

Billa made a face. "I'd prefer to hammer the lids on so you lot couldn't be seen, but that was something that occurred to me- I'd really rather have live dwarves at the end of this. Dead ones aren't much use for dragon-slaying." She flashed Thorin a smile. "You'll be riding low in the water, but as long as you don't throw yourselves around too much, you should stay afloat, even with the lids off."

Thorin hesitated a moment longer, glancing at the sturdy oak barrels, then back to Billa. He nodded slowly. "It seems we have little choice."

"You're mad!" Dwalin said, a little too loudly. The elves stirred, and one of them made a face and muttered something about "berries." Everyone froze, and a few seconds later, the dorwinion-saturated elves had settled again and seemed to be dreaming peacefully once more.

Thorin turned a hard look on Dwalin. "Do as she says. It's our only chance." His voice was stern, and meant he'd hear no more arguments. Dwalin grunted something under his breath and turned to the barrels with the others.

Billa made sure everyone was in their own barrel, stuffed packing straw around them to cushion the coming fall, whispering encouragement to each in turn. There was a growing clamor above them- it could only be assumed that the elves had found the empty cells.

"Here. Just in case." Billa pressed Sting, her little sword, hurriedly into Thorin's hands before sprinting toward the lever. It wasn't anything like Orcrist, but she had no doubt that if there was a need, then Thorin would wield it better than she could. The only battles it had seen were in the semi-dark forest, piercing spider-flesh. That was where it had earned its name- from the wails of a particularly gruesome spider. _'It stings! It stings! Demons and elf-magic!'_ The wood squeaked in protest as the mechanism unlocked, and the trap door swung open, dumping the barrels into the water. Billa threw herself after them, trying to grab onto a barrel before they met the river.

The jolt of his barrel as it hit the water was such that Kili was sure his brain had been unseated. He shook his head to clear the unpleasant dizzy sensation, pleased to find that, due to the weight distribution, the barrels settled on one end and filled with only a minimum of shockingly cold river water. The current was swift here in the channel that rushed beneath the cellars, and he, Fili, and Dwalin linked hands and positioned themselves in the gap to keep themselves and their fellows from being swept down river until all were assembled.

Thorin floated one of the empty barrels toward the floundering hobbit, who had plunged into the water last and looked rather winded. "Climb in," he urged, and Ori, who was closest to her, reached out and tilted the barrel toward her a little so she could scramble into it. This done, Thorin gave the word, and the clump of barrels began its progress downstream, everyone trying to keep a hand on the rim of a partner's barrel and so stay together.

* * *

Tauriel wasn't sure which was worse- Thranduil's reaction to her border report, or the fact that her charges were now missing. She made for the wine cellars, walking a thin line between outrage and relief. There was the guard who was supposed to be on duty, drunk out of his mind- and with no keys to speak of.

"You'll be lucky if you're still drunk when I get back," she hissed to the unconscious elf, before dashing up the stairs again. "They're in the river! Quick, before they reach the gate!"

Legolas met Tauriel in the corridor. "I just heard," he informed her quickly as they jogged along. "Don't worry; it's not your fault. Besides, they won't get past the gate." They proceeded quickly outside through one of the guard entrances, paralleling the river as it wound along, roaring down rapids and falls. They heard the sharp blasting of the signal horn behind them- now the gate wardens further downstream were doubtless triggering the mechanism that would block the dwarves' escape. They'd put a stop to this nonsense once and for all.

"Legolas-" Tauriel cut herself off almost immediately. She wasn't sure he would understand. In fact, she was fairly certain he _wouldn't._ The dwarves needed to escape, needed to make it to the Mountain. They _needed_ to deal with Smaug, since Thranduil had already made his decision concerning elven involvement with the Great Worm. But Legolas was looking at her expectantly now, and she had to say something.

"Ah... nevermind." She looked away, avoiding his gaze. Beorn had explained everything to her, though he hadn't been in a terribly good mood about it. Apparently, she'd disturbed his bees, or something along those lines.

"What?" Legolas persisted, loping along beside her as they negotiated the rough, overgrown path. "I've never known you to hold back what you're thinking." When Tauriel again insisted it had been nothing, he frowned a little, but let it go. He could ask her again later, when their prisoners had been restored safely to their cells and his father had been appeased. He had a vague hope it might concern... well. No time for such considerations. They reached an overlook a few lengths from the gate. The dwarves were moving swiftly with the current: the group of barrels- several of which had now been separated from the others in the chaos- were nearing the gate. Two armored sentries stood guard on the bridge that covered the only, and now blocked, opening, their spears lowered at the ready.

Bifur uttered a few choice words in Khuzdul that quite summed up the Company's shock and dismay. So close, and yet... so far. They hadn't counted on there being a further gate barring their escape. Thorin assessed the blockade ahead, a determined jut to his chin. They'd come too far to go back now. He wasn't giving up.

"Billa." He turned to the burglar, whose barrel he was adamantly holding up against his own. "We need to open that gate."

Dwalin, behind them, grunted. "Good luck with tha'. We've no weapons other than her little toy sword."

"That 'toy sword' saved your life, Brother," Balin interjected, paddling his barrel closer to the others. He sighed, shaking his snowy head. "Not looking promising, Thorin. Any ideas?"

Billa was thinking furiously. They needed... they needed... an idea sparked in her fertile brain and she started to heave herself up out of her barrel, bracing herself against the edges.

"Kili!" she yelled, glancing over Dwalin's head. "Fili! With me! Bifur, Bofur, you're the closest to the bank- start throwing whatever you can get your hands on!" The halfling made a brave leap and caught a branch, her legs splashing into the water an instant before she started hauling herself upward. If the elven guards were at all surprised, they didn't show it. One swung his spear toward Billa, while the other kept his eyes on the barrels below.

Thorin watched with barely-suppressed horror as his burglar rushed, _unarmed_, up the bank and toward the elven guards. He gripped her sword tightly and wished he'd thought to give it back to her before she'd initiated her unbelievably stupid, tremendously bold plan.

Billa prayed her idea would work. It was reckless- just reckless enough that maybe it was catch them off-guard. She dodged the spear-tip and dove between his legs. The elf let out a startled yell in his native tongue- and now the hobbit had both guards' eyes on her. Fili was scrambling up the bank, and Kili was just ahead of him, and neither of them had a clue what they were supposed to be doing until Billa yelled- "The lever!" There it was- a carved lever, like the one that had released the trap door, jutting out of the stone above the gate.

Legolas watched in disbelief as the dwarves affected their mad plan, most of their barrels now pushed by the current up against the gate, beneath the bridge. The two young ones, though, were on the bridge, and had already succeeded- with their smaller female that Tauriel realized was the long sought-after "Billa"- in incapacitating the two guards, flinging one into the river and knocking the other senseless with the butt of his own spear.

Thorin shoved two of the empty barrels back out from under the bridge. "Get in!" he called, his voice echoing from beneath the stone structure.

"Go on." Kili waved a hand at his brother. "Help Billa. I'll get the gate, and be right behind you." He winked at Fili and headed for the lever at the top of the stairs.

Legolas looked fit to be tied, fumbling at his back for his bow sheath. Coming up empty, he realized that in his haste to overtake the dwarves, he'd forgotten to stop by the bowmaster to retrieve his weapon (it had needed a replacement string).

"Shoot him, Tauriel!" There was panic in his eyes as he gestured toward the dark-haired dwarf, who was even now reaching for the lever. He could only imagine the look on his father's face when they relayed the news of their failure, and he wasn't about to see it played out in truth. "Quick! Don't let them escape!"

Tauriel had her bow in hand already, arrow set to the string. She honestly didn't remember preparing to shoot, but it was such a habit now that it might have happened at any point during their pursuit of the escaping dwarves. She could be charged with high treason if she didn't obey immediately, but the female hesitated a split second, feeling as though she were being crushed between a mountain and a boulder. As captain of the Woodland Guard, it was her duty to return these prisoners to the dungeon. As a Silvan elf, who chose untold years past to stay here in Middle Earth rather than sailing away to the West, she had a duty also to the land she loved, and these dwarves were the ones that were trying to save it. But Legolas's wild blue gaze was on her.

Mechanically, Tauriel raised her bow, took aim, and with a silent prayer, released the arrow. It flew straight and true, and buried itself to mid-shaft in Kili's thigh. Non-fatal shot, but more than enough pain to stun a trained warrior.

Billa had already jumped. Above her Kili's agonized scream made her twist in mid-air, desperate to help him and helpless to do so. Rather than landing squarely in the barrel, she hit the rim hard and splashed into the water. Fili landed awkwardly in his own barrel, bashing his arm against the side so tears of pain sprang to his eyes.

"KILI! NO, KILI!"

Kili couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The shot had dropped him instantly, and even with as much adrenaline as was now surging through his stunned body, the pain was such that he couldn't even _begin_ to move his leg without sending jolts of fire into his skull. He lay on the stone a moment, trembling, then forced himself onto his back, still not completely sure what had happened. He could see the lever above him now through shaky, blurred vision, and he realized he _had_ to pull it. He had to. Simple as that. At the moment, it seemed an arduous mountain to climb. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself into a sitting position, supporting himself with one hand on the ground behind him and reaching upward with the other, his fingers outstretched, trembling.

Thorin had heard Kili's cry, and the distress in Fili's voice as he called his brother's name. He felt something like ice running through his blood. "Kili," he whispered, grief and horror already settling in his stomach like cold, heavy stones. In the back of his mind, there was the image of a little dwarrow, dark hair bouncing about his eager face, his brown eyes bright with delight as he chased his fair-haired brother around their harried, exhausted uncle's chair. Thorin swallowed, his fingers curled tightly around the rim of his barrel, his eyes and heart 50 years and countless miles away.

Tauriel was tearing through the long grass, her bow gripped tightly in one hand, her arrows forgotten in the quiver on her back. She had to reach Kili before he pulled the lever, before he lost too much blood, before he realized that the shaft sticking out of his leg had the green and white fletching of the Woodland Guard. The others, her fellows, were hard on her heels.

She knew Kili wasn't going to make it in time. The lever was too high, he was in too much pain. Tauriel didn't think about it. She stopped to draw another arrow, and the others, as they dashed past her, took a wider route to avoid her line of fire. The lever came down with a clunk. Tauriel's arrow thudded into the wood barely a hair's breadth from Kili's hand.

"KILI!" Fili had braced himself against the stone arch. As his brother rolled off the ledge and plunged toward the water below, Fili shoved himself away from the edge. Kili dropped into Fili's barrel, the arrow shaft snapping off close to his leg as the dwarf was wedged into the space Fili made for him, and the barrel went briefly underwater. A little behind the others, they were swept downstream and away from the elves, out of their reach. Tauriel stood on the bridge, watching them race toward the rapids.

Legolas pulled up beside the red-haired elf, shaking his head in dismay. They were too late. There would be no catching them, not now that they had the fiercest of the rapids driving them on. Soon they would be out of the Woodland Realm altogether, and no longer in the Elves' jurisdiction. He sighed, looking down at the flat stone beneath his feet and the pools and streaks of crimson trailing over the ledge. With a grunt borne more of frustration than exertion, he wrenched Tauriel's arrow out of the lever and slid it back into her quiver.

"Father will not be pleased." He slanted a glance at his companion that betrayed his fell mood, but did not speak his true thought. _She could have killed him if she'd had a mind to. She missed on purpose._


	34. Chapter XXXIV - Of Two Minds

_Thirty Four_

Thorin had hold of Fili's barrel, and was trying to keep it upright as much as possible, but it was a lost cause once they hit the brunt of the rapids. The poor barrel, overloaded with two dwarves, tipped this way and that, going under frequently. Thorin's face bore a stricken look, and though he was still barking orders and directing the others around this or that obstacle as best he could, it was easy to see he was only just holding together. Kili was losing too much blood, and had gone alarmingly pale and listless.

"Fili, see if you can bind his leg," Thorin urged. It wouldn't be easy, but they had to try.

The ride through the rapids wasn't kind to any of them. At one point, Bombur's barrel was actually flung up onto the bank, and the fat dwarf was forced to pick it up and jump back into the torrent to avoid getting left behind. Thorin occasionally glimpsed Billa, clinging desperately to the edge of Dori's barrel, and prayed she wouldn't be crushed between oak and stone.

At length, the river calmed, and the dwarves were able to maneuver their barrels over to the bank and crawl out onto the mud. The rapids had flung them apart despite Thorin's best efforts. He'd been among the first to drag himself ashore, and now the dark-haired dwarf was standing on a rocky outcropping, waving the others over. Fili was retying a strip of cloth about his brother's leg, nearly as white as Kili was. Oin splashed up onto the bank with Dwalin, reeling from their reckless escape. He staggered up onto drier land, shaking water out of his ear trumpet.

Dori and Ori were paddling closer now, supporting a horribly limp, wet hobbit between the two of them. There was a patch of sticky red in Billa's wet curls, and as they dragged her out of the water, she moaned and protested weakly that she would be fine after a short nap. The old healer waddled over to Billa, practically swimming in his wet clothes, and quickly assessed that she was alright, as she'd claimed.

"Just a scratch," he said, relieved, clucking at her handlers to clean it before moving on to Kili. Fili had settled his brother on a flat rock near the shore, and the poor dwarf looked up at Oin with a trembling gaze, seeming more than a little liable to pass out.

"W- wha- what... h- ha- happened?" Kili stuttered, shuddering, obviously in shock. His brother shushed him with quiet assurances that things would be better soon.

"Too risky to remove the point here," the old one grunted, fishing in his now-damp pouch. "For now, we stop the bleeding and try to make you comfortable."

"We haven't the time," Thorin said ruefully, glancing at his nephews and then at Oin. "We must reach the lake before dark. We're too exposed out here." The Company was a disorganized mess, but Thorin rounded them up again. Oin checked the bandage Fili had tied, and after adjusting it slightly, gave Kili some of the herbs Billa had salvaged for him.

"We need someplace safe," the healer told Thorin grimly. "And relatively clean. This boy needs attention as quickly as we can spare it."

"How far to Laketown?" asked Billa, wincing as she probed the scratches on her scalp gingerly. "Maybe we can seek shelter there."

"The Lake Men won't be pleased with us," said Balin warningly, wringing water out of his beard. "They do good business with the Woodland Realm. We'll be in a lovely kettle of fish if the elven envoys reach Laketown before we can share our half of the story."

"We've little choice," said Thorin, shaking his head at Balin. "We've no food or supplies, and no weapons. It'll be the Lake Men or nothing." He turned to Fili. "Can he walk, or will he need to be carried outright?"

At this point, Fili looked downright frightened. A fresh wound and a dunking in the river- what if Kili got sick? What if the Lake Men turned then back over to the elves? The blond looked from his brother's face to their uncle and shook his head slightly, still ashen. "Even if he _can_ walk, I don't think he should. I can carry him-"

Dwalin let out a short bark of harsh laughter and approached. Shouldering Kili's shivering body so his arms hung to the left, and his legs on the right, he nodded slightly to Thorin.

"Lead the way, lad."

Kili moaned softly, trying to withhold any more noticeable outcry as he was slung along like a sack of potatoes over the hulking dwarf's shoulders. Mahal forbid Uncle think he was weak. He thought, in passing, it was a funny thing to prioritize. His head was very fuzzy now, like there were pins and needles prickling at the edges of his thought. His face and hands felt cold, numb, and he was glad there wasn't much in his stomach. An arrow. But who had shot it? Neither of the guards they'd faced had had a bow, and they hadn't seen anyone else around. Then again, they hadn't looked. It didn't make any sense to him, no matter how he tried to filter what little he knew through his hazy mind.

Ori was looking on with concern, wringing out her knitted scarf and arm warmers. She wished there was something she could do to help. Her brothers had been coddling her from the start, and now that she was no longer one of the most vulnerable members of the Company, she felt compelled to return some of the care that had been given to her.

"You alright, Billa?" she asked, her brown eyes sympathetic. "I can get a rag to clean your scratches with, if you like."

"I think I'll be alright, Ori," Billa said with a watery smile. "If you wouldn't mind staying close, though... I'm not quite as steady on my feet as I-" The hobbit interrupted herself with a violent sneeze, and shook her head, scattering icy droplets from her damp curls.

Ori stayed at Billa's elbow, growing increasingly worried as the halfling continued to sneeze and began to look rather pale. "Begging your pardon, Billa, but I think you may've caught cold. Here." Her wool scarf had already dried somewhat, as the fabric was good at wicking off water, and she wrapped it around the hobbit's neck, smiling as they continued on.

"Caught cold," Billa muttered, her voice muffled by the scarf. "I hope not. Probably just... the light. Been underground too long."

The Company straggled along in Thorin's wake until they topped a steep rise. The lake came into view, and with it a barge, and a man with messy dark hair and a bow slung about his shoulders. The bargeman eyed then nervously as they approached. A group of dwarves, wet and injured, obviously unarmed and carrying no supplies- they made an odd sight, to be sure.

"What can I do for you, friends?" he asked cautiously. Thorin eyed the man with equal wariness, but considering their current state, he was more disposed toward courtesy than usual.

"We seek passage to Laketown. Is your vessel available for hire?" They had little enough to offer. They hadn't brought much in the way of money to begin with, though each had some silver sewn into the hem of their tunics, in the way of seasoned travelers. They'd meant to save it for emergencies, but as Thorin watched his nephew suffer, he figured this was as good an emergency as any.

The bargeman hesitated a moment, still looking them over. His eyes rested briefly on Kili, who looked torn between passing out and being sick, Fili, who was nursing a nasty patch of bruised scratches on his arm, and Billa, who was sneezing again.

"The town doesn't take kindly to outsiders," he said uncertainly, though already half persuaded. "And I haven't a permit to carry passengers."

Dwalin began muttering something unsavory, and Thorin silenced him with a look. Couldn't really blame the dwarf, though. They were all cold, wet, and exhausted, and had little patience for haggling with a bargeman who seemed apt to refuse them anyway.

"Permit?" Thorin looked a bit perplexed. "Why would you need a... permit?" He glanced at Balin to let him know anytime he wanted to step in and help would be quite welcome. The older dwarf had a knack for getting others to see things his way. Balin's expression was grave as he moved forward and encouraged the man to answer Thorin's question. After a moment's hesitation, the bargeman did, explaining the Master of Laketown was using a man's business and what he was and wasn't allowed to carry in his boats or sell in the marketplace as a way to tax a city already starving to death.

"So what we need," summed Balin with a sly smile, "is a smuggler." The man eyed him a moment, then nodded. Balin smiled wider. "We'll pay double. We have great need to get into Laketown. We need supplies, weapons- and if we succeed, you will be a rich man."

"Who are you?" asked the bargeman suspiciously. "And why do you wish to visit a dying city?"

"We are but simple merchants of the Blue Mountains traveling to our cousins in the Iron Hills, lad. We met misfortune on our road, and require assistance."

After a great sigh, the bargeman waved them forward. "Payment in advance," he said quickly, "or no deal. I've need of your patronage, as it happens. My latest shipment hasn't come through as it ought."

"What is it ye ship, lad?"

"Empty barrels, from the Woodland Realm."

* * *

Thranduil's body grew rigid, his hands gripping the sides of his throne. He leaned forward, eyes boring into his very penitent-looking son. "How could you have lost them? Thirteen _dwarves_ escaped my walls beneath your incompetent noses, and I want to know how."

Legolas shifted nervously, feeling like an insect under observation. "Father, we only had word after it was too late. They'd breached the water gate by the time we saw them, and by then, there was no stopping them."

"They escaped by way of the river? Through the cellars, then. Clever. Perhaps they had help…." He went no further with this train of thought. At least, not out loud. "They'd slain the guards at the gate, then?"

Legolas shook his head. "Light injuries, but both alive."

"And did you even _try_ to stop the dwarves when you'd sighted them?" Thranduil's tone was excoriating, and Legolas dropped his gaze. "Surely they were in range of your arrows!"

The prince stole a brief glance at Tauriel and nodded slightly. "We tried," he said carefully. "Hit one of the young ones- a crippling shot. But before we could make any use of it, he'd jumped and they all slipped through the gate."

Thranduil snorted. "'A crippling shot'? I take it the arrow was yours, Captain?" Thranduil smirked a little at the discomfort that flickered across Tauriel's face. "Don't look surprised. My son is an open book- he cannot deceive me. If he were ashamed for _himself_, he would stand tall and accept my reproof. Well, what have you to say? Why did you not take a killing shot when you had the chance, stop the whole escapade from going any further?"

Tauriel watched her king for a long moment, her expression stoic and her gaze steady. Unashamed. "I didn't feel lethal force was necessary, sire." Her eyes flicked over to Legolas, as though speaking to him also.

Thranduil frowned down at her. "What you _felt_ had no bearing on your duty. You were to stop the dwarves. That was your task, and you failed in it."

Legolas took a step forward. "Father, I didn't tell her to kill him. I... I told her to _stop_ him. He was trying to pull the lever to open the gate, and I'd left my bow behind. She dropped him before he could pull it, but... he forced himself up as we were running to take him and..."

"And he opened the gate," Thranduil finished in a patronizing tone. "Well, then I'd say lethal force _was_ necessary, wouldn't you? If you'd killed him, Captain, the dwarves would not have escaped." With a sigh, the king stood and turned his back on them, hands clasped behind him. "Now they go to wake the beast from his slumber. Your little blunder may cost them dearly, as well as anyone who harbors them. They'd have been better off living out the rest of their days in my dungeon."

Tauriel swallowed. This was a part of her plan that she hadn't liked to think about. And yet... "I don't believe they go to wake the dragon, my king. Thorin is proud and stubborn, but he is no fool. They cannot hope to overpower Smaug with a force of fourteen." Thranduil's gaze sharpened, and the she-elf stiffened slightly, answering before he could ask. "The intruder we couldn't find... was a companion of the dwarves. One 'Billa' by name, sir. She helped them escape."

Thranduil's frown became a look of distinct surprise. "_She_? A female dwarf? I'd thought the dwarves guarded their women more carefully than gold. Why would they risk one in a venture like this?" He pondered to himself whether this 'Billa' might have had some kind of personal connection with the Company, a wife or sister that wouldn't be parted from him she loved.

"I... don't think she's a dwarf, sir." Tauriel shook her head slightly, glancing at Legolas again. He'd heard as much as she had of the dwarves' talk. "I don't know what she is- they referred to her only as their 'burglar.' Too small to be a dwarf. Hardly the size of a child, sir."

Thranduil turned at this. "Not a dwarf? Then... what? What else _could_ she be?"

Legolas cleared his throat. "I'd thought... of course, it may be a foolish theory, but I'd thought she- or rather it, since I hadn't seen her until the incident at the gate- might be," he looked immensely uncomfortable, "a sorcerer of some kind. She walked among us for so long unseen- no dwarf could have done so. It was as if... she weren't visible at all. Wasn't that so, Tauriel?"

Tauriel nodded, looking distinctly unsettled by the thought. "There have been... incidents, since the dwarves' capture, that have suggested we had an intruder in our midst- an intruder that no one could locate. More than once, I thought I heard the passing of a light-footed creature... but saw nothing." The captain shivered slightly. What if she'd been wrong? What if the dwarves were allied with the very dark powers she sought to thwart?

Thranduil's dark brows met, a troubled cloud passing over his face. "Why did you not speak to me of this when you'd first begun to suspect that something was amiss? I might have looked into it myself and seen something your own eyes passed by. You know my power. I may have drawn out this creature and discovered its purpose had you thought to inform me."

Thranduil took a step down toward Legolas, a dire look in his eyes. "You know not what you may have allowed to roam freely through our halls, my son. You are young yet, naive. Evil has ever sought to find a way into the places that have resisted it longest. Even the most impenetrable stronghold invariably has... a weakness." Legolas lowered his head in shame. He knew well to what weakness his father was referring.

"That was my failing, my lord, not his." Tauriel stepped forward, her expression fixed and determined. "I thought we would be able to find the creature and bring her to you. I never thought she would elude us for so long. At times... I even doubted the creature existed except in my own mind. Forgive me, my lord. I have failed." She bowed deeply, her hair falling forward over her shoulders.

"No," said Legolas, pulling her up again. "No. I take the responsibility, Father, for what's happened. I... wanted to prove myself capable, to catch the one that had eluded us myself. I didn't realize, until the very end, that this may have been... beyond my skill to manage."

Thranduil seemed mildly placated. "As I'd thought. Perhaps nothing will come of it. Should Thorin Oakenshield meet with success, we may yet have the opportunity to find the truth of the matter." He sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "I trust a lesson has been learned. Legolas, you may go. Captain, I will have a word." The prince bowed and took his leave, casting one final, reluctant glance over his shoulder at Tauriel. When he'd gone, the Elvenking moved another pace toward the red-haired elleth.

"My son has grown fond of you, Captain," he said in an undertone, his voice deep and resonant in the intimate space between them. "You have known him many hundreds of years as friend and prince, but I sense there is more to it than that now. Have you... encouraged this?"

Tauriel resisted the urge to laugh. Something _more_ between Legolas and herself? Indeed her prince was fond, perhaps a touch _too _fond, but would Thranduil suffer his son to ever be anything _more_ than friend to her, a Silvan elf? Still, the question begged thought. Yes, she, too had noticed the "something more" between them, and occasionally, she wondered at it. But when did she have time to entertain the fancies of a golden-haired prince?

"I... have encouraged nothing of the sort to my knowledge, my king," she replied at last. "I had not thought you would... allow your son to treat with an elf of such low bearing as myself." But she couldn't stop a slightly hopeful note from creeping into her words to betray her. The idea that Legolas might feel more than friendship for her was one that moved her deeply. What if... what if? And what if it was all naught?

Thranduil shook his head. "I would not allow it if love were a thing that could be commanded away. The race of Men, perhaps, experiences passing infatuation. Among Elves, such things develop slowly, and are not so easily... dismissed." Thranduil drew himself up, staring down at her with scrutiny. "I have spoken to him about this, and he informs me his choice has been made, and will not be turned from unless," he lowered his chin a little, "you will not have him." The king sniffed lightly, as though he were amused by the thought. "To have a prince so taken with you, a _commoner_... it is not the way of wisdom, and it cannot end well. But," he sighed in exaggerated resignation, "for my part, I will not forbid it. I lament the diluting of royal, high elven blood, but better the line endure in some fashion than not at all."

Tauriel realized she was gaping at the king and closed her mouth with an astounded click of teeth. Legolas... _loved_ her? Had _chosen_ her? Tauriel was in a daze, her mind spinning. "Thank you, my lord," she murmured numbly. When she looked at Thranduil, she could see distaste, but she could also see resignation. Had he accepted their union as inevitable?

_Legolas will hate me for what I must do._

"My lord... I must... speak with the prince." Tauriel could hear her own shock as she scrambled to recover. This changed nothing. It changed _nothing._ And yet, it changed everything. Oh, how she hated pain and grief.

Thranduil nodded, turning away to settle gracefully on his throne again, the long train of his shimmering, silver robe swirling behind him. "Very well, Captain. But think well upon my words. I will neither forbid nor endorse your relationship- I will only _permit_ it, if you deem that you are worthy of my son's affections." There was the hint of a smirk in his expression now. He waved a hand, his long, pale fingers graceful as the wing of a swan. As she turned to leave, his voice came again, as of an afterthought... or a final warning.

"Do not toy with him, Tauriel. He deserves to know the truth, whatever it may be."

Tauriel paused, looking back at him. The resignation, the sadness... had it been an act? For now, as she looked at him, she could see that he knew very well- he knew better than anyone- that she would never be worthy. It was almost as though he'd been teasing her with the possibility of what she could have, if only things were a little different. She bowed slightly, and departed. As soon as the door was shut behind her, the captain broke into a jog. She needed to find Legolas. She had to tell him.

* * *

"So they left _everythin_g behind, then?" Legolas asked, glancing into the nearest cell. "Well, that would have aided in stealth, certainly. Did you find anything else? Anything suspicious?"

The chief guard thought a moment. "No," he said, presently. "I'll have them look again."

"Good." The blond prince turned away. "Let me know if anything..." He trailed off when Tauriel came rushing up the walkway, an odd look on her face. "What's wrong?" Legolas asked, frowning worriedly. "What did Father say?"

Tauriel stopped, her glance flicking over the guard, uncertainty clear in her face. "May I speak with you alone, my prince?"

Legolas indicated that they could, concern turning to something like alarm. Tauriel was clearly very upset. It wasn't at all like the stoic Guard Captain to let her emotions rule her like this. Once they were alone, the red-haired elleth turned quickly to face her friend.

"Legolas, I can't stay here and do nothing. I _must_ go after them." Such emotion was rare, but this was sharpened to such intensity, it fair radiated from her. It was as though, under the surface, Tauriel were almost frantic.

Legolas frowned. "To bring them back?" He shook his head. "It's a lost cause, Tauriel. Surely they'll have made it to Esgaroth by the time we could overtake them."

"Not to catch them." Tauriel shook her head, meeting his gaze out of necessity, and wishing she could look away. "To help them."

"_Help_ them?" Legolas looked as though every ounce of blood in his body had frozen solid. When he moved again, there was horror in his eyes. He leaned closer to her, glancing behind him to see that no one was listening. "Help them?" he said a little more quietly, but just as incredulously. "Have you gone mad? Why would you want to _help_ them? You've already helped them enough, Tauriel, letting the young one live long enough to open the gate! If the king hears you've even asked..." She could finish that sentence as well as he could.

"I'm not asking, Legolas." Tauriel felt as though her insides were twisting around in tight, serpentine knots. "If only to ensure they don't wake the beast... I must go. Please understand, I do not do this out of love for dwarves. I go... to fight the Darkness. I go... to strike, before it swallows us all." Her green eyes looked suspiciously wet, but she refused to look away. Showing weakness would do her no favors. "It has devoured our beautiful wood. We can no longer see the stars. We _cower_ underground while the spiders of Dol Goldur defile our trees and the paths we have walked in peace since the time of the Last Alliance. I _cannot_ live in a world of darkness, Legolas. I... I am not strong enough."

Legolas was bewildered, but his gaze wasn't without understanding. He sighed and looked away. "I, too, lament the evil that has tainted our ancestral lands, but I don't see how going after the dwarves- who, for all we know, may have allied with some evil force themselves- will accomplish anything of worth." He met her tearful eyes again, forcing a faint smile. "Tauriel, come. You're upset. You've never made good decisions in this frame of mind. Let's go somewhere private and talk this over. We'll find some middle ground. Going after the dwarves, though," he lowered his voice, "is not an option. Father will view it as a betrayal, pure and simple. He will not allow you to return, and I..." He tried to swallow the emotion beginning to creep in to his tone, "I wouldn't see you again, Tauriel. He would ensure we were separated for good. I can't lose you. Perhaps that makes me weak, but... I can' t. Please."

Tauriel took his hand. It was the first time, in her memory, anyway, that she had ever initiated any sort of affectionate physical contact with him. "We will be separated, in the end. You will sail to the Undying Lands with your kin... and I will stay here, with mine." She paused and took a deep breath, blinking to rid herself of the tears she dared not shed. "Legolas, we will never truly be together as you wish it to be. But you will always be my truest friend... even when it seems I've forgotten what that means. I pray you'll forgive me someday." She released his hand and turned, her throat tight. She had to go now, or she would be too late. If Kili didn't sicken from infection, he _would_ be weak from blood loss, and the Lake was full of ice at this time of year.

Legolas watched her go, face stricken, eyes cold. So there was a reason she'd seemed so oblivious to his affections all these long years. She didn't love him. Never had. Never would. He couldn't decide which hurt more: this knowledge, or the knowledge that his father, when he heard of her decision, would brand her the most heinous of traitors. Legolas would tell him, of course.

Not right away, though. If there was one thing he owed her for her centuries of faithful service- if not her centuries of _friendship_- it was a head start. The king would doubtless want her brought back to face judgment, and Legolas could no longer protect her. That would be up to those she now sought so ardently to help- among them, the very dwarf she herself had shot not an hour before.


	35. Chapter XXXV - Return of the King

_A/N: Apologies, dear readers, for the lengthy breaks between updates. Gives us more time to edit, though, and ultimately results in better chapters. Thanks, one and all, to you who've been so consistently reading and reviewing. Couldn't do it without your encouragement and kind reviews. You guys are all ridiculously awesome. And now for another installment in the saga of Billa Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield! _

_**dearreader**: Sorry for missing your question in one of your earlier reviews. Actually, we didn't know Evangeline Lily had said that her hair gave her a headache, but I suppose it makes sense. Fun coincidence. :D_

_Thirty Five_

Thorin exchanged a meaningful look with Balin. They'd been riding in the poor man's livelihood, and most of those barrels- when they were retrieved- would probably be unfit for anything but burning. But it couldn't have been helped.

"We'll pay you well, bargeman. Half up front, half when we have the rest of our supplies." Bard and Balin quickly reached an agreement on what would be fair, and the dwarves wearily retrieved the required amount from their seams (Gloin grumbling rather loudly to himself), and presented the coins to Bard before boarding the barge.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Dwalin rumbled in Thorin's ear. "Trustin' a LakeMan with the lion's share o' our money."

Thorin was standing in the bow. "Or we could wait here to be caught by the Elves- or worse. Do you think we're in any shape to defend ourselves?"

"All the same, I don't like the looks of 'im."

Ori helped Billa sit against the side, huddling beside her. "Don't worry. We'll be warm and dry soon, I think." She smiled reassuringly at the shivering halfling, but she was inwardly troubled.

The dwarves were not a happy lot, and referred to their companion almost exclusively as "bargeman" or "hey, you." Balin sat near the helm, speaking quietly with the man, whose name was Bard. He was uncomfortable with the situation, to be sure, but he glanced worriedly and often at Kili and Billa.

"Hardly more than children," he murmured, his brow creased with mingled anxiety and concern. "'Misfortune' hardly seems a fair descriptor."

"They're hardier than they look," said Balin in an undertone. "But sometimes I wonder if it was wise to bring them."

The air grew chill and damp as they moved further out into LongLake. Soon, chunks of ice were floating by them, and it became clear that the weather had not been kindly to the men of Laketown. A sudden, icy breeze tore the clinging mist asunder. For a moment, the shape of a single, jagged peak could be seen on the horizon, looming solemnly over the land.

Kili was shuddering like a leaf in an autumn gale, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brother held his hand and whispered encouragement. They'd be safe soon, Fili said. They would get to Laketown, then he could rest properly. The opiates had, at least, eased much of the pain, but the young dwarf was still in a bad way, his system struggling to overcome the strain of shock and blood loss.

Thorin looked on, tight-lipped, and the only thing that momentarily relaxed the concerned frown on his face was the sight of the LonelyMountain, lurking darkly behind the mist like the great beast that dwelt beneath it. They were nearly there. Nearly home. The thought roused his sinking spirits. _Home._

He paced across the deck, ducking under the pivoting spar, and caught sight of Billa huddling beside Ori. His frown returned. She wasn't well- that much was immediately clear. He moved quickly over to her, bending down to speak more privately, his hands clasped behind him.

"Nearly there, Billa."

"She's freezing, Thorin. I can't warm her up." Ori's doleful brown eyes were frightened. Thorin exhaled heavily, hesitating, glancing at the others. They were mostly occupied gazing at the Mountain, looks of wonder and reverence on their exhausted faces. Propriety be damned, Thorin decided, and sat on her other side, pressing her tiny, shivering body into his own. Dwarves were hardier than hobbits, thicker-skinned, warmer. Warm enough to forestall hypothermia. That, at least, he had to offer. As often as he'd needed her in the past, right now, _she_ needed _him._

Billa was shivering violently, but having a dwarf on either side seemed to help. "I-I-I'm al-al-r-right, really. Jus-ju-just a li-lit-li-li... a bit cold." The halfling clenched her teeth against the shivering and chattering, but that only brought about another fit of sneezing. There wasn't enough time between the sneezes for her to breathe properly, so by the time she'd finished, she was red-faced and gasping.

Something clattered on the deck, and a moment later, Bard nudged his bow out of the way and dropped his heavy longcoat over the three of them.

"We've still a ways to go." The Lake man's voice was gruff, but his expression was strained and anxious as he glanced from Thorin, Ori, and Billa to Fili and Kili. "When we get closer, you should all move below. We won't get into the city at all if they think I'm breaking code."

Thorin nodded appreciatively, wrapping the coat more fully around Billa. "If it's all the same to you," he said, getting up, "we'll move down now. We're... ill-equipped for this weather." Without bothering to ask, as he was more than a little sure she wouldn't be reasonable about it, he scooped Billa up in his arms, still wrapped in the coat, and moved toward the trap door Bard kicked open for him.

"Fili, Dwalin, bring Kili," he ordered over his shoulder. "The rest of you, move below as you wish." The roof of the hold was low, even by dwarf standards, and Thorin found himself in danger of hitting his head as he moved to a small, flat bench overlain with a blanket, setting the shivering halfling down and resuming his place beside her. He ignored the searching glances of several of the others as they appeared at the bottom of the narrow steps. It was none of their concern how he chose to protect the Company's burglar. He tucked the coat around her again and drew her against his chest.

"Hold on, Billa. We'll be there soon."

* * *

The hold of the barge was little more than a crawl-space, really. If one didn't know better, one might think that the trap door was _intentionally_ concealed beneath that pile of rope and canvas. The space was damp and, if possible, even colder than the deck above, though the air was stale and old, smelling of wet tar and soggy bread. The walls were slick with damp, green mold, and tiny icicles dotted the sturdy beams above their heads.

Billa made several incoherent grunting sounds as Thorin settled her against his chest. She was trying to speak, but by then her sinuses were so thoroughly clogged that even if she _had_ managed to find the words, they'd have been near-incomprehensible. At length, wheezing quietly and attempting to wedge herself inside Thorin's coat while he was still wearing it, the halfling let her eyes close. Though she still shivered sporadically, she seemed to be in the process of falling asleep.

Fili wiped the persperation from his brother's skin after he'd been settled on a bench. The move had not been easy for poor Kili- but at least now he seemed to be unconscious. It wasn't a peaceful unconsciousness, but at least he wasn't moaning and twitching in pain anymore. Sitting back with an exhausted sigh, he shuddered and tried not to let the burning in his throat turn into real tears. Small. Soft. Warm. Someone sat beside him, and Fili shot a surprised look into large, anxious brown eyes. Ori. She was twisting her knitted arm-warmers around her wrists.

"They'll be alright," he offered with a brave smile, covering one of her hands with his. "We all will. You'll see." He had nothing at all to substantiate the claim, but it was infinitely better than just letting her sit and look frightened.

Ori nodded a little, tugging fretfully on one of her ribbon-wound braids. She'd braided ribbons into her hair for no other reason than there was nothing better to do in the Elvenking's dungeons. She couldn't help but wonder if anyone had noticed- or _would_ notice. But something in Fili's voice and manner was reassuring, even if she sensed he doubted his own claims.

"I hope so," she said, smiling faintly. "I'd be sad if we lost either of them. They've always been so kind to me. Well, not to say _you_ haven't," she corrected herself quickly, "because you've been wonderful. Just I... oh, I don't know." Her cheeks began to feel very warm, and she knew she was blushing. Again.

Fili politely averted his eyes, pretending not to notice her blush and trying very hard not to smile. It seemed somehow rude to be so cheered by her embarrassment. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he sighed, feeling a little less like the world was falling apart.

"It's frightening," he admitted, his words almost a whisper in his effort not to be overheard, "the idea that either of them might... not be with us anymore. Honestly, I think Uncle will forbid it." He chuckled weakly, and shook his head. "But... I guess... I get the feeling they've both lived through worse. They have no excuse. They have to... we're too close." The blond glanced at her, feeling anxiety clawing at his chest, and at the same time, a smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps his sense of humor was broken, but laughter was fighting to escape along with the desperate pleas to the Valar to save his brother.

* * *

Thorin leaned against the wall, feeling strangely... drowsy. It seemed the harrowing escape in the barrels coupled with the horror of believing- even for a minute- that his nephew was dead was an exhausting combination.

This felt very nice, he admitted to himself. Being with her. Being beside her. Not just because it had been something he'd longed for for some time- holding his burglar to himself, protecting her with his own arms- but also because, well, she didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. He wondered faintly if, after she was well again, she would be upset with him. Pretend it hadn't happened. Make as little of it as he would ordinarily have made of it himself. In some small, but insistent corner of his heart, he very much hoped not.

* * *

Ori blushed even redder than she had before. It was a curse to have to display her emotions so obviously- like being an open book. But Fili's hand was very warm, and his grip firm. Calm. Reassuring. In spite of her embarrassment, which she knew would pass, she was comforted.

"Your uncle has led us well. I trust him. And," she fidgeted a little, the sides of her worn and scuffed leather boots scraping together out of habit, "I trust you." She sneaked a nervous glance at his bemused, blue-grey eyes. "You did a good job, I think, leading us in the forest when Thorin was asleep. Maybe someday I'll... write a poem about it. Not that my poetry's much good," she added quietly, looking down at their entwined hands. Fili barely had time for more than a self-conscious chuckle before something fist-shaped hit the back of his neck hard enough to make stars pop in front of his eyes. A moment later, he was on his back on the floor, though he hadn't the faintest idea how he'd gotten there, and Nori was kneeling on his chest.

"I warned you," he growled. "I _warned_ you about touchin' my sister." Ori jumped up, startled, horror written all over her face.

"Nori! What are you doing?" She grabbed her brother's arm, trying with all her (very limited) might to pull him off of Fili. She didn't succeed. "He was only trying to help, Nori. He didn't do anything wrong!"

Thorin stiffened and sat up, opening his eyes sleepily. "What's the meaning of this? What happened?" Based on the current position of the row's participants, he could fairly well guess what had happened.

While Ori was trying to pull her brother off of Fili, Nori was digging his knee into Fili's ribs. The blond blinked, trying to clear his head while his lungs labored against a great weight. But he wasn't completely helpless. Now that Nori was distracted, Fili reached up, grabbed the older dwarf's shirt-front, and heaved him to the side. Nori growled a curse, but as Fili tried to roll to his feet, he bashed his own head against the side of the bench he'd just been sitting on, and sat down with a grunt of pain.

By now, Billa was awake, and slipping unsteadily off of Thorin. She landed on the floor with a bump and a yelp that turned into a storm of sneezes. The halfling's eyes and nose ran terribly as she sneezed and sneezed, trying desperately to breathe.

Ori shot a rather furious look at her brother, kneeling next to Fili. "Are you alright?" She inspected his head, her dainty fingers separating his golden mane to see if he'd split his scalp open. To her relief, there was little more than an angry, reddening bump. She patted it, because that was really all she could think to do, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry, Fili. I didn't... I mean, he wasn't..." It was her fault, what had happened. She'd known her brother might react this way.

"Shoulda seen it coming," Fili whispered with a self-deprecating shrug. His gaze landed on Nori, who was anchored to the bench with Gloin holding his arms and Bofur sitting on him, looking smug.

"Give 'er a kiss fer us, lad," urged the hatted dwarf with a mischievous grin. "We can 'old 'im." Fili could feel the heat rising in his face and prayed it wasn't visible. Shooting a side-long look at Ori, he shook his head.

"Ignore them," he muttered, as Gloin chuckled.

Ori shrank into a little ball on the floor, flushing with embarrassment at the thought. Not that she would've minded overly much if Fili had... well. It just... made her feel strange, all melty and warm inside. She withdrew her hands into her arm warmers and lowered her head to her knees, tucking into herself like some sort of dwarven turtle. If anyone asked, she'd say she was cold.

Thorin glowered at Nori, quickly retrieving Billa from the floor.

Balin pressed a handkerchief into her hand. "Here ya are, Lass."

"Are you hurt, Billa?" Before she could answer, there was a shout from the deck.

"Everyone below. Now! We're approaching the gate." Bard's hushed voice was just audible below deck, and one by one, the remaining dwarves dropped into the hold, and the trap door banged shut after them.

Billa buried her face in Balin's handkerchief and gasped for air as her sneezes subsided. Leaning limply against Thorin, the halfling closed her eyes. Her coloring went from flushed to pallid in the space a few heartbeats. She looked absolutely miserable.

"I hate b-b-be-bein' sick," she mumbled thickly, starting to shiver again.

Thorin swaddled Billa in Bard's coat once more. It was an old, worn thing, and smelled like sweat, wet leather and damp wool, but it was warm, and for the moment, that made it priceless.

"Hold on, Billa," Thorin rumbled in what he fancied was a soothing tone. "I'll have you inside by a fire in a moment." _If all goes well._ There was some amount of discussion up on deck, Bard's voice and an unfamiliar, strongly accented male voice. The dwarves listened, barely daring to breathe, for a few tense minutes. Then heavy footsteps approached above them, accompanied by very distinct words.

"Sorry, Bard, but I hafta check the hold. Master's orders. No exceptions." The dwarves in the hold were still as statues, eyes fixed on the boards above, straining their ears. Bard laughed, but it was a harsh, humorless sound.

"Come now, Deno. What could I have down there? You know as well as I do the only cargo I ever haul in the hold is fish, and it's the wrong season for that. I've already lost today's shipment, don't let's delay any more. I want to be home by my own hearth before tonight's ice sets in."

Billa shuddered, eyes watering as she all but smothered herself with the handkerchief, trying not to sneeze.

"I know, I know," said Deno, sounding apologetic. "Don't worry. It won't take but a moment. There've been some... incidents these past few weeks what have put the Master on edge. They're watching me, he said. Might come down on me own family, ya know, if I let anything slide." The door creaked open, and yellow lantern-light started to creep into the dim crawl-space below. A shadow stretched across the wall as Bard leaned down and clasped Deno's hand, pressing a goodly sum of money into his palm, wrapped in a bit of canvas to stop the coins making noise.

"They've sick and injured," the bargeman murmured, barely loud enough for those closest to the trap door to hear. "I've promised them aid... without it, they may die."

Deno hesitated, leaning down to peer into the crawlspace. The dwarves saw his blunt-featured face staring at them, illumined harshly in the light of his lamp.

"Dwarves?!" The whisper was awash with astonishment. "But I... Dwarves, Bard? Here?" It sounded almost as though he considered them something sprung from legend, more fairy-story than fact. How brief was the memory of Men. Thorin stood up slowly, moving into the shifting golden arc of the lantern.

"We have returned," he said simply.

Deno looked even more baffled. "But you're... but the... oh my." He sighed, turning back to Bard. "The Master'd kill me if he knew I'd allowed a group of dwarves smuggled into Laketown. But I... well, what am I to do?"

"What's going on there?" said an oily voice, from the deck. "What have you found, Deno?"

"Oh. Alfrid." Deno sounded terribly conflicted. He glanced back at the expectant, pleading faces of the dwarves. A weighty beat of silence.

"Uh, it's nothin'," he said at last, turning away. "Empty. Just thought I saw a... er... a rat."

"A rat?" Alfrid's greasy skepticism made Fili shiver. He had an arm around Ori's shoulders now, shielding her from sight, his eyes fixed on the opening above them.

"You'll have to take care of that, Bard," sneered Alfrid. "There's a fine for bringing pests into the city. Some'ow, I don't think rats are the only pests on board." There was a threatening note to his voice now, and the dwarves held their breath.

Billa wheezed frantically behind Thorin, still sitting on the bench where he'd left her. Balin was supporting her as she lost the fight, letting loose a minor explosion of sneezing. She suppressed it violently, face scrunched and weeping, the very damp handkerchief clamped over her nose and mouth- so the noise she made was like a loud, strangled squeak. There was silence on deck for a long moment.

"What was that?" asked Alfrid, his voice low and malicious. Deno seemed a bit at a loss. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, searching for words, then produced a very fake sounding cough.

"That was... that was _me_, Alfrid. Sorry. It's the blasted cold. Comin' down with somethin', I shouldn't wonder."

Alfrid scoffed. "Whadda you take me for? A simpleton like the common folk? A fool like you, Deno? I wanna know what you're protectin'. Guards, search the 'old."

Thorin turned back to the others with a look of dismay. "We'll never get anywhere trying to fight them," he said quickly, as the clanking of armor and weapons approached the entrance to the crawlspace. "I'll get us out of this when we've had a chance to explain ourselves." Dwalin glowered unhappily but saw that Thorin was right. Fighting would be no use. The first guard dropped through the trap door, and let out a cry of alarm.

"Dwarves, sir!" he called. "A whole gaggle of 'em."

"Dwarves?" Alfrid sounded incredulous and, for once, completely surprised. "Bring 'em up!" As the Company was herded up on deck, tight groups forming around Ori, Kili, and Billa, the guards watched them. One, the younger of the two and the one who had jumped into the hold, seemed rather awed by them, while the older glared at them suspiciously. Alfrid had a nasty smile on his sallow face, and was poking Bard in the chest with one long finger.

"You're in 'ot water now, aren't you? The great bowman, smugglin' dwarves into Laketown. Wait 'til the Master 'ears about this."

Bard ignored Alfrid, but looked at Balin with a sorrowful shrug. They were all in for it now. "Sorry, friends."

They were marched off the barge and across a series of decks and ramshackle bridges in the shadows of tall, slapdash houses, all separated by a broad, filthy channel. The townsfolk stared in wonder as the group passed, the children leaning out of windows to get a better look, or pointing, tugging insistently at their mothers' aprons or their fathers' sleeves.

Thorin held his head high, a very ill-looking Billa bundled up in his arms. As much as he disliked being a spectacle, he'd carry himself like the royalty he was. Alfrid was bringing up the rear, smirking at Bard and barking at the guards now and then to "'urry it up." When they reached a surprisingly grand courtyard before a large, well-maintained structure with heavy double doors, they drew to a halt. Alfrid slipped inside, and a moment later, returned with a slouching, orange-haired man in fine, pompous clothes. The Master.

"Well, what's all this?" he cried in a plummy voice, looking rather bewildered.

Dwalin stepped forward, sweeping a guard's spear aside contemptuously to reach the front of the group. "We are the Dwarves of Erebor," he said in a great voice, his expression hard. "We are led by Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain." There was an unmistakable note of pride in the warrior's rough voice.

Fili, stooped under the unconscious weight of his injured brother, glanced at his uncle and felt the same pride and admiration that the others did. Thorin was every inch a king, even burdened with a violently shivering hobbit-lass. Billa looked small and frail in his arms, and Fili felt a stab of worry for the poor thing. Had her time in the river really done so much harm? The Master looked startled, overwhelmed, as though it had never occured to him that those silly legends about the Mountain King returning might actually be true.

"Really?" he said, glancing from Dwalin to Thorin and then to Alfrid beside him. "Caught sneaking in on a barge, you said? Hmmm. This doesn't portend well." A few curious townsfolk had begun to drift in behind the dwarves now, hoping to see something interesting.

"Thorin, is it?" The Master nodded to himself. "Then why, Thorin, must a king sneak about like a... spy? Hmm?"

"We are not spies," said Thorin wearily. "We met with ill fortune at the hands of Thranduil and were told your town wouldn't take kindly to those fallen afoul of the Elvenking. Empty-handed and low as we seem, we are in earnest. We seek to reclaim Erebor, and with your aid, I believe it can be done." The Master looked very concerned at the mention of Thranduil. He'd grown wealthy trading with the Woodland Realm, and wasn't about to jeopordize his primary source of income. "Why should I? What would I stand to gain?"

Dwalin let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Is the memory of Men so short?" he asked scathingly. "If we reclaim Erebor, we shall have a _dragon's hoard _at our disposal. Wealth will flow through this land again. This was once a land of craftsmen and artisans, proud of their trades and rightly so. Have the men of Esgaroth forgotten?"

The townspeople murmured among themselves, and soon all eyes were on the Master. He shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Alfrid. Running a beefy hand over his thin, shockingly orange hair, the man frowned, trying to look thoughtful rather than uncertain. Thorin adjusted his grip on the halfling. As light as she seemed in his arms, he couldn't hold her weight indefinitely. They needed a warm fire and blankets, soon. He'd assessed fairly well now what sort of man the Master was, so getting him to see things his way wouldn't be too difficult.

"All will share in the wealth of the Mountain," he said so the enthused crowd could hear. "For your service to us, you will be handsomely rewarded. Your city- which I see even now falls into ruin- will be rebuilt to rival Dale of old itself. You stand to gain much, Master of the LakeMen."

Ori saw that Fili was struggling to support Kili and moved to the dark-haired dwarf's other side. "I can take a little of his weight," she offered timidly, inserting herself under Kili's limp arm. He wasn't very heavy, tall as he was, but all the same, he was dead weight, still unconscious, his head hanging to one side.

Fili accepted Ori's help gratefully, and adjusted his brother's arm around his own shoulders and tightened his grip on Kili's waist. His arm was getting very sore, but he refused to loosen his grip even one jot, lest the injured dwarf slip from his grasp. At least his baby brother was still unconscious. Otherwise this would be unbearable for him.

"Thanks, Ori," he whispered. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

The Master licked his lips, envisioning wall-to-wall piles of coins and jewels filling his halls- no, filling the halls of the palace he'd build for himself. As speculative as this venture was, greed won out over his common sense. Besides, the townsfolk might very well riot at this point if he refused them.

"You make an excellent offer," he said, rubbing his hands together like a landed fly. "And I accept it. Welcome, King Under the Mountain. Welcome, and thrice welcome!" Cheers erupted from the assembled throng, and even Alfrid was grinning, momentarily distracted from the irksome fact that Bard would go unpunished.


	36. Chapter XXXVI - Healing Hands

_Thirty Six_

The dwarves were ushered inside and a healer sent for, bedclothes brought and fires laid. Soon the guest wing was looking quite cozy, and the sounds and smells of hurried cooking came from the kitchen at the other end of the hall. Oin accepted the human healer's help ungraciously as Fili and Ori laid the injured dwarf on the table in the main room, where there was the most light. The point of that arrow needed to come out, and come out now.

The door opened again and a tall, red-haired figure in flowing elvish clothes entered. Tauriel's face went, if possible, paler than normal when she saw the exposed, inflamed wound.

"Let me help." It wasn't an offer. It wasn't a demand. It was a _plea_, and Oin was hard-put to deny her when those green eyes were so full of remorse and something that looked like fear.

"Would that the lad were awake to see ya," he said, escorting her to Kili's bedside and dismissing the human healer with an irritated gesture. "That'd liven him up in a hurry, I warrant."

* * *

In one of the largest suites of the guest chambers, Thorin enlisted Ori's help to get Billa into some fresh, dry clothes (ducking out during the process, naturally). They'd belonged to a child, it seemed. The jacket she wore was faded blue velvet with wool trim, and they'd had to roll up the sleeves to fit her. Ori quickly fetched a mug of hot, spiced wine from the kitchens while Thorin silently wound Billa in a thick blanket and helped her into an oversized chair by the fire.

"Here's the wine," said Ori shyly, pressing the steaming cup into the miserable hobbit's trembling hands.

"That will do," said Thorin, nodding. "Now run and see about Kili, and report back to me." Ori moved off, leaving Thorin and Billa alone beside the crackling warmth.

Billa's hands shook so she was in danger of spilling the mug's contents. She couldn't seem to stop shivering to save her life. Raising the cup to her lips, she managed to take a sip without making too much of a mess. Honestly, the halfling was so tired, so cold, and so very miserable that she felt liable to burst into tears at any second. Of course, rather than crying, she started to sneeze instead, which quite spoiled her efforts not to spill wine all over the blankets that covered her.

Thorin shook his head, feeling on the one hand uncomfortable being relegated to the role of a nurse-maid, and on the other, pleased to be with her, to aid her in whatever capacity she needed. He retrieved a towel and quickly dabbed up some of the warm liquid she'd dumped down herself.

"You need rest," he said firmly. "I'll help you to bed." Taking the mostly-spilled wine from Billa, he set it on the mantlepiece and scooped the halfling up again, gently, drawing back the covers of the freshly made bed, removing the damp blanket, and resting her on the clean sheets. He pulled the comforter over her, tucking it in carefully. "I'll have Oin in to see you soon. Don't try to get up, or he'll probably work himself into a fine mood."

Billa watched him, her large hazel eyes bleary with exhaustion and what may have been a fever. Had she been a little less miserable, she might have told him that for hobbits, this was fairly normal. When they got sick, they got sick fast and hard, then recovered within a day or two. But her muddled brain refused to produce the thought that Thorin may not know this. So instead, she watched him, wishing he wouldn't go, wishing he would lie beside her again. He was very warm.

* * *

Tauriel worked quickly. With Oin's help, the point of the arrow was removed and the ugly wound cleansed. She didn't look at the old healer as he inspected the arrow, nor as he turned his gaze on her, but she knew that her guilt was written all over her face.

"The arrow came from my bow." She confirmed his silent accusation as she treated Kili's bleeding leg with herbs she'd brought with her. "If I hadn't... then he would have been killed."

Fili gave her a horrified glance, but honestly wasn't sure whether to thank her or challenge her for injuring his brother. The blond was distracted by Ori's nervous approach, and stepped away from the table to meet her.

"The elf is helping us," he said quietly. "I don't presume to know why."

Ori glanced fearfully between Kili and the elf. Though Tauriel's voice had been quiet, she'd overheard.

"Fili..." Ori whispered, hiding in her new, oversized jacket. "Is... is he going to be alright?"

Fili swallowed the lump in his throat, or at least, he tried to. With a somewhat painful effort, he tore his eyes away from his brother. "I hope so. Not a fatal shot, so... he should recover." It sounded rather like the blond dwarf was trying to convince himself.

Oin was wafting a bowl of near-boiling mint water beneath Kili's nose in hopes of bringing him around. Kili stirred as the pungent scent entered his nostrils, clenching his hands and moaning fitfully, face drawn with pain. His eyelids fluttered.

Looking at Ori, Fili realized for the first time that she didn't seem to be wet anymore. Then he looked down at himself, in his damp, chilled clothes and boots that squished unpleasantly with every step. But before he could follow through with the vague concept of drying off, he heard Kili's quiet moans. Turning hastily, Fili was back at his brother's side in a trice, peering worriedly into his face.

"Kee..."

Tauriel steadied herself, inhaling the warm, minty scent as she tied off the neat, white bandages around Kili's leg. She couldn't stop the faint smile that flickered across her face, though. He was coming around. Slowly. She smoothed the bandages fastidiously, then glanced at Fili.

"You'll want to get into some dry things. He needs rest, but he's out of danger for now."

Fili nodded slightly. He wasn't willing to question her just yet.

Kili settled into what Oin noted was a "natural sleep," and Fili assisted the healer in changing his brother into some clean, dry clothes the Lake Men had provided (while Ori and Tauriel stepped out, briefly). Afterward, Ori retrieved a basin and washed, dried, and combed Kili's sweat-soaked hair, glad for something to do besides standing by, fretting. They had done all they could do for him now.

"Oh." Ori bit her lip, looking contrite. "I forgot I was supposed to report back to Thorin." She turned to Fili, sheepishly. "Think he'll be upset with me?"

* * *

Thorin clasped his hands behind him and paced over to the hearth. "I'll stay with you until Oin gets here, make sure you don't run off." He smiled faintly. It was unclear to him why his spirits were so light now, considering all that had happened and all he knew lay before him. Perhaps it was because, despite all other considerations, here in this place, the Company would have its first true respite since Rivendell. It seemed so long ago now- ages ago. A hazy, pleasant memory.

They'd made it this far, against all hopes- nearly to the doorstep of the Mountain- and once they were rested, they'd have just enough time to find the hidden door before Durin's Day was ended. All things being what they were… they had been very, very fortunate. The lion's share of that good fortune, he knew, was lying in the bed behind him, swaddled in blankets.

After a few minutes of staring drowsily into the flames, Thorin was pulled from his reverie by the distinctive chattering of teeth. He turned. Billa seemed to be asleep (perhaps what little she'd had of the wine had helped with that), but she was shivering such that her entire body shook. Maybe the bed was too far from the fire. Thorin paused, surprised by the impulse that leapt to the forefront of his mind. He could think of one way to warm her in a hurry; it had certainly relaxed her in the crawlspace of the barge. But the impression Oin might take when he arrived and found them in bed together gave Thorin pause. However chaste it might be, and however necessary, there was always going to be a certain stigma associated with male-female bed sharing.

She sneezed again, and it was followed with a violent, choking cough. That made up Thorin's mind fairly quickly. He closed the door and noted that it had no lock. This made the dwarf pause again, but Billa's coughs seemed to be getting worse. He firmed his resolve, paced back to the bed and reclined gently beside her, on top of the covers. It was a large bed, especially by Hobbit standards, so he didn't have to move her but a little to ensure he wouldn't slip off the edge.

Her skin was very warm, he noted immediately, which worried him, but he felt that her shivering had lessened almost immediately, so his body warmth must've had some positive effect. Or was it his presence itself? Both? He couldn't decide. All he knew was that the same sense of well-being washed over him as he'd felt in the barge. She needed him, and he was content to be by her side.

* * *

Fili glanced at the door his uncle had disappeared through with the halfling earlier. With a sigh, he gestured at it. "Come on, I'll go with you. Only fair, since I was the one distracting you." He shot a glance at the door of his brother's room. Fili seemed more relaxed now that Kili wasn't in immediate danger, but tension didn't fade as quickly as he wished it would. And... his gaze flicked to Tauriel, who was sitting in the corner, waiting to speak with Thorin.

"Come on." He clearly thought it best to warn his uncle himself. Ushering Ori through the door, he froze.

His uncle was in bed with the hobbit. Not under the covers, but still... Fili cleared his throat and glanced at Ori. "You wanted to be updated on Kili's condition?" he asked, perhaps not as loud as he might have, given that the halfling was clearly asleep. Billa was nestled under Thorin's arm, snoring squeakily and looking flushed, but at least she didn't seem to be as uncomfortable as she had been earlier.

Thorin leapt up from the bed too quickly, nearly falling over sideways in the process.

"F- Fili," he stammered out groggily, rubbing the side of his face a little, his gaze flicking embarrassedly from Fili back to Ori, who was hiding behind the blond. Both of them looked rather embarrassed, too. Maybe a little scandalized, but he might have been reading that into their expressions.

"Yes," Thorin continued, coughing forcefully into his fist, a gesture meant to indicate he was more business-like now. Whether it succeeded or not was unclear. "Will he be alright? Did he wake?" He stole a furtive look back at Billa, and he thought for an instant her eyes had been open, but snapped shut the instant she saw him looking at her. Maybe that was his imagination, too. It seemed to be very active today.

Fili nodded slightly, avoiding looking directly at his uncle and inspecting Thorin's boots instead. "Oin woke him." For a moment, he shifted uncomfortably, aware of Ori's hands wrapped around his, since his hands were behind his back and so was she. He took a breath, remembering why he'd come in here. "Um... the elf captain is here. She treated his wound. And... she said that she was the one that shot him."

Thorin frowned, looking for all the world like he was trying to puzzle out some incomprehensible riddle. "She... shot him? _She_ shot him? Then why would she...?" Had it been some kind of mistake and she'd regretted it afterward? Or was there some craftier, hidden motive?

He strode out of the room, glancing back at the sleeping halfling as if to remind himself she wasn't going to vanish, and shutting the door behind him.

Tauriel was standing now, waiting patiently, her arms folded. Thorin felt several very conflicting compulsions, the most prominent of which was to demand she leave. But the reasons behind what she'd done intrigued him enough that he resolved, at least, to hear her out before he sent her away.

"What do you have to say?" he asked, staring darkly up at her. There was much less anger in his voice than he'd expected there to be.

Tauriel waited until he was standing still in front of her, then did something that, several days before, she may have thought entirely unwise. However, she took one step back, and lowered herself to one knee. She would have had to look up at him if she wanted to meet his gaze, but instead of doing so, she kept her head lowered respectfully. All other activity in that room absolutely ceased, each dwarf certainly just as startled as their king.

"My lord," Tauriel said in a soft, grave voice, "it was I that released the arrow that struck down thy nephew. Though it were less than what my prince asked of me, I regret it still, and have come to make amends. Had I not struck him, another might have taken my place and his heart then may have been the target, rather than his leg." These formal words, spoken in the elvish fashion, seemed very sincere. "I have spoken with the Great Bear, and heard of your anger against Smaug. I offer thou my aid, such as it is, in ridding the world of the foul dragon, and restoring the throne of Erebor to its right glory."

Even Dwalin's mouth hung partially open by the time Tauriel finished, his face torn between alarm and distrust. "Don't listen to a single pretty word off her silver tongue!" barked the warrior, before the others had quite recovered.

Thorin raised a hand to silence Dwalin. He could make his own judgment. His frown had eased to a look of puzzlement, as though he hadn't understood what she'd just said, or _couldn't_ understand it. She was clever- he'd seen her craft from the start- and could doubtless use her wits and quick tongue to her advantage. But... why? Had Thranduil sent her in some misguided effort to claim the share of the treasure he'd been denied? Or to ensure they were captured and brought back? That her actions might be the result of precisely what she'd said was having trouble registering with him.

"But your king," Thorin questioned, "your prince... your people. If what you're saying is true, you've betrayed them. Why?" Loyalty was of all dwarven values the most prized. Other considerations aside, betrayal of any kind brought the highest of shame. Did she truly care so much about what went on beyond her own borders that she'd bring such disgrace upon herself?

Tauriel actually winced at his words, feeling the weight of the betrayal heavy in her mind and heart. For a long moment, she was very still. When at last she spoke, her voice was not entirely steady. "I brought my findings before my king, my worry that greater forces than we had yet seen in this age might join, and cast a shadow upon our land. This dragon, and Necromancer... they frighten me. But Thranduil no longer cares to look outside his borders. I... cannot accept this." The red-haired elf paused, seeming more uncertain now. "I love this land too much to let it be overrun and tainted, as our forest has been. If the darkness can be driven out, it would be an honor to be among the few who fought to restore the light."

"Good lass," murmured Balin, looking very much as though he approved.

Thorin took a step back from her, glancing at Balin. He valued the old dwarf's opinion highly, and it seemed he was of a mind to trust her. As... unlikely as it seemed, he had to admit, she didn't have the look of a liar.

He shifted, feeling the weight of many eyes and fortunes on him, turning back to Tauriel. "I am satisfied with your explanation, she-elf. But however merciful your aim was, my nephew may not understand." He shook his head, looking somewhat overwhelmed. "Give me some time." With that, he turned away.

Balin followed him into his chambers, unsure what sort of decision Thorin might be trying to make, but purposing all the same to offer guidance. The white-haired dwarf made sure the door was firmly shut before turning to his king with a curious look in his bright old eyes. "What's on your mind, Thorin?" The exchange with Tauriel had been baffling, at best, but he saw nothing wrong with allowing the elf to make of herself what use could be made. He didn't doubt she was a capable warrior, and would be a great boon should the dragon awake. Balin shivered, and decided not to dwell on it.

Thorin turned, not terribly surprised Balin had followed. "She's an _elf_... swearing loyalty to me." He threw up his hands, pivoting back to the wall again. "What am I to do with that? I couldn't... allow her to come with us. As capable of a warrior as I'm sure she is, what if she turns on us, when we're at our most vulnerable? I'd be a fool to allow her to join us, Balin. Would I not?"

Balin considered his king's words carefully. At length, he spoke in a slow, measured tone. "It would not be meet to deny her completely." He paused a moment, staring hard into his beard. "Yet I share your concern. Would it be possible," and here he raised his hoary head, fixing his gaze on Thorin's back, "to make use of her talents and keep our distance as well? Can we afford not to accept as much of her help as she offers?"

"You mean... leave her here, leave her with Kili?" Thorin tilted his head in a way that suggested he hadn't really considered the long-term ramifications of his nephew's injury. There was no possible way the young dwarf would be well enough to travel before Durin's Day fell, let alone be of any use. Someone would have to stay behind and care for him, and to leave the Company's only healer would be decidedly unwise. He frowned unhappily, disliking the situation where it stood. _Trusting_ an elf. _Needing_ an elf.

"Will he be safe with her, Balin? I know she could've killed him before- she had her chance- but... Balin, I can't lose him."_ I never should have allowed them to come along in the first place. So very young. Too young._

"We have time to judge the elf's mettle." Balin sighed quietly and stroked his beard. "We should stay here a day or two, give the lads some time to recover before we move on." He paused, frowning slightly. "You realize... we may need to leave the burglar behind. If this illness of hers is serious..." The old dwarf didn't finish the sentence. He knew he didn't need to. Thorin's imagination was more than vivid enough without his help.

Thorin nodded. He had considered that, but hadn't quite decided just what sort of feelings it evoked within him. In a way, he'd be relieved if she were forced to remain. It hadn't sat well with him from the start, the idea of sending her in to burgle the Arkenstone from beneath the dragon's nose, but she'd been so insistent... he didn't think he'd be able to persuade her otherwise, had he half a mind to. Moreover, Gandalf's words about the venture's success resting on Billa's inclusion in it were firmly ensconced in the back of his mind- and now he very much believed them. To leave her behind would be risky, at best.

"I am caring for her," Thorin said, hesitantly. "I hope to see her well enough to make our departure in a few days. If not, then so be it, but as far as I can help it, I'll not leave her behind."

A knowing smile crossed Balin's bearded face, but he made no further comment. With a slight bow, he acknowledged his king's decision. "Shall I send for supper?" The Company would enjoy the respite, even if Thorin was too preoccupied to share in it. Cocking his head slightly to listen, Balin nodded slowly. "Sounds like Oin found what he was looking for. Billa should have some soup in her before she sleeps. I'll go fetch it."


	37. Chapter XXXVII - The Lonely Hours

_Thirty Seven_

Tauriel rose to her feet after Thorin left, and let out a slow, tense sigh. Her betrayal was complete. She had offered fealty to another king. Though she knew this course of action to be a virtuous one, it made her feel no better about her own methods. Rather than stand in the central room where the dwarves could continue staring at her, she excused herself, moving into Kili's chambers to watch over him.

Fili frowned at the elf's retreating back, even more uncertain now than he had been before. "Can we really trust one that would abandon her own people?" He spoke quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.

Ori waited for Dwalin's tense discussion with Bombur to cool a little before venturing a very timid opinion. "Fili, I... I think she's going to do what's right, and leaving the Elvenking when he wouldn't listen was... right. I don't think she'll betray us. She wants us to succeed. If we don't, her people will suffer along with all the rest." It had been a brave thing to say, especially for her, in the midst of a currently very fractious Company. She smiled faintly, withdrawing into her jacket and arm warmers again.

Fili glanced at the female in surprise. Hardly more than her round, freckled nose and large brown eyes could be seen between her mop of ruddy hair and the collar of her oversized jacket. He wondered where her scarf was. Maybe still with the halfling.

"Maybe you're right," he admitted. "I just... hadn't thought..." Hadn't thought what? That elves could choose so drastic a course of action for the sake of what's right?

Nori cleared his throat pointedly and made a threatening gesture in their direction. Fili decided it was time to move on before he got attacked again.

"I should look into getting some dry clothes." It wasn't much of a farewell, but the blond stood and departed, seeming uncomfortable in his own skin.

Ori glanced at Nori in a way that meant "behave!" then turned and slipped into Kili's room. Tauriel was sitting unobtrusively in the corner, watching the gentle rise and fall of the sleeping dwarf's chest. She looked very pensive, alienated. Alone. Ori bit her lip, taking a tentative step toward the fierce-eyed she-elf. "I'm sorry about," she glanced toward the door, "them. They've always been that way. Distrustful of anyone different. But I... I like you. You're not like the elves my brothers always talked about."

Tauriel didn't move, but her gaze flitted to Ori's face, appraising her with the swift eye of a protector. Then she relaxed slightly, and sighed. "I get the impression that dwarves don't have the best image of elves to begin with- not hard to improve on the concept of oath-breakers and liars." There was a slightly bitter tone to her voice, but her expression was more sad than resentful. "Thank you, though. I didn't expect to find any friends among your Company." Her gaze returned to Kili, delicate eyebrows lowering slightly.

Ori smiled faintly, but it faded into a look of concern when she saw the elf's glance shift back to Kili. The young dwarf was shifting a little, his face drawn. "Is his leg... will it heal? I mean, I don't doubt your skill with... medicine, I just... he looks so... ill."

Tauriel's green eyes darkened slightly with worry. "It's trying to get infected. That's why he's struggling so much. It should heal just fine. It will just take time." _Time that we don't appear to have a lot of._ She could only hope that her skills were enough to pull him through with all speed. Thorin seemed to her to be a dwarf with too much responsibility and too little time.

The door opened slightly, and Thorin peered inside. Finding Tauriel where he'd suspected, he entered and approached her, looking markedly more collected, his hands clasped behind him in a business-like fashion. "Since you've offered your service, Lady, I accept it. In the capacity I choose, that is." He didn't look into her face; his eyes were fixed on a point on the wall behind her. His tone was flat, maybe faintly perturbed. "You will stay behind and care for the wounded, if you aim to be of use to my Company."

Ori, shrinking shyly into the opposite corner, looked disappointed. She'd definitely been hoping Thorin would allow Tauriel to come with them. She would've felt safer- more comfortable- with the skill and quiet composure of the she-elf in their midst. Especially when it came to potentially facing a dragon.

Tauriel studied him, seeming unsatisfied. "As you say," she murmured, inclining her head toward him obediently. Her own words came back to her. _Proud. Too proud and hurt to see past their own anger._ She would stay, if she was needed here. If not, she would be ensuring Thorin's success in his endeavor, regardless of whether he wanted her to or not.

"T-Tauriel?" Kili's weak, groggy voice carried into the midst of the dwarf and elf's awkward space, and both turned to look. "It's… it's not her," he murmured softly, as if to himself. His eyes were half open, and he winced a little as he turned his head toward the voices he'd heard. "Dreaming again." He turned his head away with a sigh and closed his eyes once more.

Thorin glanced at the elf, looking rather... embarrassed. "My nephew shames himself," he whispered intently, leaning in. "When he wakes, you'd do best to explain your intentions are entirely platonic."

Tauriel's eyes widened, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly as she looked from Thorin to Kili and back with an expression of embarrassed disbelief on her face. After a moment of confused silence, she nodded fervent agreement. "Yes, sir." She hadn't thought Kili's infatuation anything more than a passing fancy, the inclination of a young heart toward a kindly face. If, indeed, her face was kindly. "Severe" was a word more often applied to her.

"What'd... you say?" Kili murmured from the bed, his words barely coherent. Tauriel shook her head slightly. Standing, she moved over to Kili's bedside and gently wiped the sweat from his brow. Oin had wisely left some drinking water on the sill, and she filled a cup deftly.

"Drink this," she murmured, supporting his head and shoulders with a strong arm. "You need rest."

Thorin's eyes narrowed as he glanced from Tauriel to a piece of fuzz floating in the air and then back to Tauriel. Ah, well. It wasn't as if he hadn't warned the young dwarf. Balin had warned him, too. The foolish naivete of youth would prevail in Kili's mind only so long as it wasn't sobered by a few healthy doses of cold reality. It remained to be seen whether he'd check his fancies when she revealed she was the one who'd shot him. Nodding to himself with what might have been mild satisfaction, Thorin turned and paced from the room.

"Tauriel?" Kili took a small sip of water, opening his eyes a little. It was clear he was still somewhat feverish. "But..." He frowned, deeply confused. "This isn't... Where'm I?"

"We're in Laketown. Your companions brought you safely here." Tauriel couldn't help but smile faintly at his confusion.

"Laketown?" said Kili, rubbing his eyes, still frowning a little. "But I..." He moved his leg a little, and a fresh wave of pain shot up his thigh. He moaned lightly. "I was hit... my leg... shot." He reached down a little, lightly brushing the spot where the arrow had entered. The fresh trousers he'd been dressed in had been rolled up above the knee, and there was a thick bandage wound tightly around his leg, just above the knee joint.

Ori approached the bed, looking alarmed. "I'll go get Oin. I think he needs more herbs for the pain." Tauriel glanced at her and nodded slightly, passing a cool hand over Kili's leg and murmuring for him to be still.

When Ori had gone, Kili shook his head a little. "Shot... didn't see it coming."

Tauriel paused, letting the silence settle between them. "The arrow that pierced your leg... came from my bow," she said quietly, her tone very solemn. "I wished to spare your life."

"Spare my life?" Kili repeated, words a little slurred. "You... shot me?" His head dropped back on the pillow and he shut his eyes, wincing. When he opened them again, they seemed a little dull, as though he weren't really seeing what was before him. "Shot me..." he murmured once more.

Tauriel's heart fell. "Yes. I shot you." At least... he wouldn't "shame himself," as Thorin had put it. The she-elf settled Kili gently back onto his pillows, trying not to feel too disappointed. "I'm sorry, Kili."

Kili waved a hand weakly, a response that was ambiguous at best. He was clearly still too delirious to fully process her words. Pulling the blanket around him and tucking the corners under, Tauriel straightened, glancing toward the door. Oin would be here soon to administer more of the pain-dampening herbs he used. She didn't like the smell of them, but had no more of her own herbs with which to treat the young dwarf.

A moment later, the old healer had returned, and with the help of his usual concoction of herbs, the young dwarf lapsed back into healing sleep.

Tauriel watched healer and patient, sadness in her angular face. Though she knew he wouldn't remember any of this, it was still a bitter truth to acknowledge. She had hurt him, and in more sense than one. Even as a warrior, the elf loathed causing pain of any sort.

_And yet, here I am, hurting my friends on either hand._ With a sigh, she settled back into her corner to watch over him while he slept. Until Fili returned, at least, it was best for someone to keep an eye on the injured dwarf. Just in case.

* * *

Hours passed slowly for Fili. No matter how much he tried, sleep eluded him. He watched his brother, watched the fire, paced in circles around the common room. The sky was fading from deepest black to pale grey when one of the doors opened. Fili turned mid-stride, and was surprised to see, not Thorin, as he'd expected, but Ori. The blond paused, frowning slightly.

"Are you alright? Can't sleep?"

Ori shook her head, surprised to see someone else up, too. "Been so long since I slept in a real bed," she said softly, "now it almost feels like something's... wrong, when I'm not lying on anything hard. Can't relax." She twisted one of her ruddy braids around her finger, looking pensive. "Might try sleeping on the floor tomorrow night, if Dori would let me." The way she said it hinted that the meticulous dwarf may have reacted rather strongly when she'd suggested it earlier.

Fili relaxed slightly, looking relieved. "I thought I was the only one," he admitted with a rueful smile. "I was hoping it was just the food, or maybe worrying about Kee... but the beds bother me. And so does the water, if I'm being honest. I swear I can feel it sometimes." He dusted off his sleeves nervously and offered her a smile. "Maybe I'll fetch some wine. Think that might help?"

Ori looked surprised. "I'd like that. Always helps me relax." She smiled, moving over to the hearth and seating herself on the little brick shelf before the quiet blaze. She produced a pair of dainty needles and a tightly wound ball of grey yarn from the pocket of her jacket and began unravelling a few lengths of the yarn. "Working on a shawl for Billa," she said softly, looking pleased. "My needles were taken by the Elves. Got a new pair from one of the washer-women. Not as nice as my last ones- Nori made 'em for me."

She wasn't certain why she felt compelled to tell Fili all this. It surely wasn't because she thought he might be interested. But she was finding herself increasingly more at ease in his presence, free to talk about her own interests, small as they might be. "I like knitting. Soft things. Nice things. Reminds me of home." She glanced up to see Fili filling two clay cups of wine from a small oak cask on the corner of the table and smiled again. He had a gentle strength about him that made her feel at once comfortable and protected.

Fili had relaxed as she spoke. Now, returning to her and offering her the cup with slightly less wine in it, he smiled down at her. "I'm sure Billa will love it. You make really nice things." It was a compliment, and he really meant it. "I guess some folk think... a dwarf that doesn't work a forge can't be a good craftsman. You're living proof to the contrary. It's encouraging, really." He graced her with a fond glance, his blue-grey eyes twinkling. Her homely little interests were comfortingly tame in comparison to everything else that was happening. He appreciated her steadiness.

Ori smiled, putting aside her needles to accept the cup. She'd already finished an entire row, and the cheerful little loops of grey wool were taking shape. She took a small sip of the wine, then looked up at Fili, her eyebrows lifting with unexpected pleasure. "This is good." Another sip. "Very good. I know a fine wine when I taste it." Dori had no doubt bequeathed her some of his enviable expertise. "I didn't think the Lake Men had such... good stuff. I wonder where they got it." It had a delicate, complex, slightly tangy taste initially, but left a sweetness like honey afterward. And a lovely, warm sensation in the stomach, Ori was noticing now.

Fili was smiling, as though somehow her praise for the wine was communicated in part to himself, having brought it to her. He took a drink of his own, and was pleasantly surprised. "I'm not an expert," he said slowly, "but I'd guess the Master of the Lake Men is trying to endear himself to us." He chuckled, lowering himself to sit beside Ori, close enough that their shoulders touched. With a sigh, the blond looked thoughtfully down at the liquid in his cup. "Reminds me of the stuff we had in Rivendell. Feels like such a long time ago, now."

Ori nodded. "Been a long time since we weren't running for our lives, or in danger of being killed and eaten at every turn. Rivendell seems like a beautiful dream now. Such lovely things there! I learned some of the elven runes from Lord Elrond's scribe, too. When my brothers weren't looking," she added softly. "I know they wouldn't approve."

Fili was very close now. She wondered why she'd only just noticed that. The firelight played off his winsome features, danced in his blue-grey eyes, glowed on his flaxen mane. _Mane_, Ori thought, hiding a smile of amusement. Now that she thought about it, he did rather resemble a great golden lion, noble and strong. Royal. (She'd seen a rather lifelike drawing once, in a book of exotic creatures from Far Harad and beyond.) It was clear Fili, of the younger heirs of Durin, had most definitely taken after his uncle. He would make a worthy king, someday.

"Fili, I know this may sound strange, but... I've thought over what Bofur said about me in the Elvenking's prison. A lot. Do I... do I really look... female?"

Fili took another long drink and turned his head to look her over more critically than he'd yet had time to. In the cheery, yellow light of the fire, she seemed ever so much warmer and softer than he'd ever thought. They had all had to take their belts in over the course of their travels, but Ori... well, maybe he couldn't see properly under that coat. The thought of what he might see under her coat made him aware of the heat in his cheeks. He refocused on what he could see- her face. Again he noticed her freckles, the round softness of her nose and eyes, the dark ribbons in her braids. After a moment, he cleared his throat slightly.

"I... I'm not much of a judge... Kili would probably be a better person to ask. But... if I were to answer truthfully... I do think you're rather... well... very... I think you're pretty. " Fili glanced into her face, smiling bashfully. The wine had settled like embers in his stomach, wonderfully relaxing. Probably just as well, he thought, because otherwise he might not have had the courage to answer her question at all. The drink must have been decently strong. He was grateful.

Ori's familiar blush made a reappearance, though in the firelight it gave her something of a healthy glow. She averted her eyes, taking a more respectable gulp of wine, her heart beating a lustier cadence in her chest. The searching way he'd looked at her made her feel very funny, and though his gaze hadn't lingered on her long, for the first time in her life she'd felt wanted. Desired. Attractive.

"You're very sweet," she whispered softly, her fingers trembling a little and setting the wine in her cup shuddering. "I've never felt that way. Pretty. I was raised to be more like my brothers than I would've liked. No mother, and all. When Dori and Nori let me come along, they dressed me to look male, cut my hair, and..." She blushed a little redder, "told me to act very brave and bold and loud, or the others would suspect. I... made something of a fool of myself at dinner that first night, I think." She met his gaze again, smiling softly. "I like to believe I've come a ways since then."

Fili chuckled, remembering. "Well, I think we all did. And poor Billa. I didn't think much of her, but I liked her food." He glanced at her again, feeling awkward and yet comfortable. It was a strange combination. "Ori, do you think..." Her gaze met his and it was as though his question, whatever it had been, had fallen down a very deep, very dark hole. He saw, really _saw_, that she wasn't just pretty. It was a similar feeling to getting hit over the head, or having his legs swept out from under him. There was a single lock of chestnut hair lying messily over her left eye, and her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright with pleasure. He'd never seen her so happy before. Was that the difference?

Ori noticed the shift, and it caught her off guard. He was looking at her very differently now, as if he'd had some sort of epiphany. As if he were just noticing something for the first time. "Do I think... what?" she ventured, suddenly self-conscious again as he stared at her. The space between them became charged with some peculiar magnetizing force, and she hardly dared to breathe, lest the spell be broken. The flames crackled placidly in the stillness that followed as she slowly- very slowly- leaned a little closer to Fili.

Fili's mouth was partially open, but if his lungs were working, he couldn't tell. He was light-headed and felt suddenly very warm, though it wasn't unpleasant. The concept of kissing her crossed his mind in a rather vague, fuzzy way. That concept became more concrete as the space between them gradually narrowed. Her nose was about two inches from his, freckles and all, when Fili stopped, and a look of shame crossed his face.

"I shouldn't- I'm sorry. This is... very..." He withdrew, looked almost painfully apologetic. "I shouldn't even think things like that. Please... I'm not suitable company tonight." Fili stood up, gripping his empty cup so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked like he could have kicked himself for what he'd almost done. And Nori would have skinned him alive.

Ori opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, looking equal parts surprised and rueful. He'd almost... he'd almost... Almost. And she knew then that she would have wanted it. Enjoyed it. But that beautiful, shrinking space between them had vanished now, quickly as it had come. Though not as if it hadn't been. She'd remember it well, especially if nothing like it ever came again. "I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze now. "I... shouldn't have... the wine..." She set the cup down on the brick shelf beside her. "I'm sorry," she said again, reaching for her needles. It would help to busy her hands.

"The wine," Fili agreed, glancing at her. "It's not your fault, Ori. I just... I should have known better, I guess." With a sigh, he set his cup on the table and paced back toward the fire. Sitting down a little ways from her on the floor, rather than on a level with her, he folded his legs under his body.

"If I were more polite, I'd just go sleep and leave you to your knitting. I guess I'm just not nice enough."

"I- I don't mind," said Ori, mildly afraid, now, to look at him for more than an instant. "I like... being with you." She cast on another dozen stitches in the blink of an eye, her needles flashing in the golden light. "I feel... calmer around you. Like I'm safe. It doesn't make much sense, I know," she admitted, "but that's the way of it." He made her feel calmer in many respects, but he also made her nervous. It had been easier, believing she was unattractive, indistinguishable from any of the males in the Company. With that disproved now, she had more appearances to keep up, more expectations to fulfill. She wanted him to continue liking her, believing she was pretty, enjoying being around her. It was rather overwhelming, she thought, but no less worthwhile.

"Fili," she said at last, "about what happened a few minutes ago... I," her needles flashed furiously as they picked up anxious speed, "don't think that was impolite. I think it would have been rather... nice."

Fili was stunned. She really thought all that? He shivered, glanced at her, and caught Ori's gaze on him. They both looked away quickly, and he could see her face turning red again. But what to do? She'd just confessed that she _wanted_ him to kiss her. Was that permission? A request? Did she really know what she was saying?

_ Fee, you're completely over-thinking this._ The voice in his head sounded very much like Kili. _If you like her, and she likes you, don't just sit there. Do something about it!_

Yet Fili remained motionless, watching his own shadow jump nervously from side to side as the flames crackled softly at his back. He listened to the quiet click-click-click of her needles for a long moment before the words slowly started to form in his mind.

"I think... I think too much of you to do anything like that," he admitted at last. "You are... too worthwhile. Too valuable. To... For me to give in now, would be a disservice. I don't want... no, I _won't_ risk your honor... on a whim."

"My _honor_?" She sounded surprised. Her needles slowed, and she frowned a little. "This is about Nori, isn't it?" There was mournful realization in her tone. He was afraid of how Nori would react if they dared act on their feelings for one another. In a way, he was right. She'd nearly forgotten the incident on the barge, even though it had only been hours before. She didn't blame Fili for being hesitant. All the same, she wished it didn't have to be this way.

"No." Fili's voice was firm again. He stood and looked at her, touched her shoulder with a gentle hand. "This is about me, and about you, and to hell with your brother and his overreactions. If I thought it the right thing, then I'd fight Nori ten times over to have that... what almost happened. But I don't. It wouldn't be right. Not tonight. Not with the wine muddling things. You deserve better." He let that sink in a moment before he sighed, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Now... I think we should both sleep. It's nearly dawn."

"You're right," said Ori quietly, looking a little sad. Perhaps it was more than he'd said. "You go ahead. I won't be able to sleep. Not now. May try for a nap later." She shifted a little, finishing another row of the shawl. "Best if I just... stay up." Her needles were still now. She turned to look at him, smiling embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, Fili. I've been... silly. I hope you sleep well."

Fili looked somewhat crestfallen, but nodded. "I... yes. Good night." He awkwardly, almost reluctantly, let go of her shoulder and turned toward the room he was sharing with his brother. It was hard not to look back. He passed through the door into his brother's room and closed the door with a sigh. A pair of green eyes gazed at him from the corner, and Fili nearly leapt out of his skin before he realized it was Tauriel. How she'd gotten in without him noticing wasn't something he wanted to contemplate at the moment.

"What are you doing in here?" He knew his tone was irritable, but he had a right to be. The elf gazed unblinkingly at him, like a great cat. There was no answer. Fili rubbed his eyes tiredly, wishing the world would go back to being simple. But when he looked again, ready to demand an answer, there was no one there.

"Great. Now I'm seeing things." Fili grabbed a blanket and rolled himself into it, settling in the corner and missing his brother's comforting warmth. Or even Billa's. It felt lonely and cold without the others. And that made it all the harder to forget that moment when he might have been close to another, and had given it up to keep her safe from himself.


	38. Chapter XXXVIII - Confessions

_Thirty Eight_

Dawn broke through the high windows, pale yellow and cold, accompanied by the distant murmur of the townsfolk going about their business and the faraway calls of fishermen hauling in their early morning catch. Thorin emerged, draped in a black wool blanket, to rebuild the fire. He halted in his tracks when he caught sight of poor Ori, leaning against the brick of the hearth, her hands still clutching her knitting needles. There was a dainty grey shawl draping across her lap, mostly finished, and the ball of yarn had fallen and rolled several feet across the floor.

Thorin stepped over her yarn to kneel on the brick shelf before the fireplace. Soon, he had another crackling blaze going, and he sighed, sitting a moment, watching the flames begin to lick over the wood. Then his eyes fell upon the little cup at Ori's side, still half-full of crimson liquid. Maybe she'd been... drunk. She didn't seem the type to drink alone, but what did he know? As he got up and turned away, he caught sight of the other cup on the table and frowned. Very odd.

He decided, then, that it would be best to check on Billa. He entered her room quietly and shut the door behind him. She looked quite rumpled and miserable, even in her sleep, and her pillow was soaked in sweat. Her hair- longer now than it had been- was a mess of tangles, and her face looked wan and had a slightly greenish hue. Thorin quickly stoked her fire and added more wood (he'd banked it well the night before to ensure it would last until morning) before heading for the wash basin on the table by her bed. He had no choice but to wake her- she looked feverish, and a quick brushing of his hand across her cheek confirmed that she was. He raised her head and turned her pillow, then lay a cool, wet rag over her forehead. She stirred, looking delirious and faintly panicked. He took her hand firmly. "Rest easy, Billa. You're safe."

Billa shuddered, gripping his hand tightly and beginning to shiver despite the heat radiating from her small body. "Thorin," she breathed, nearly choking on his name. Almost immediately, she started to cough. It was a deep, wet, nasty-sounding cough, the kind that abuses the muscles in your stomach and chest, and leaves you too exhausted to fight the next time your throat starts tickling.

Thorin winced a little at the painful-sounding cough, gently tucking the covers up beneath her chin. He released her hand and retrieved a kettle from a hook near the hearth, filling it from the pitcher beside the basin and hanging it over the fire. There was a little mug on the table Oin had left the night before, with a small cloth packet of herbs. Thorin didn't know what they were, but they had an acrid, pungent scent to them. He assumed that, when steeped in hot water, they would help her breathe better and soothe her throat. While the kettle was heating, Thorin scooted a chair up beside Billa's bed, leaning over her with concern. She didn't seem to be fully awake, but neither was she asleep. Her eyelids fluttered, and every so often, she'd try to speak, though it usually ended in violent, choking coughs.

"Shhhhh..." Thorin said, wringing out the cloth in the basin, folding it into a long strip and reapplying it to her forehead. "Don't try to speak." After the brew (Thorin wasn't entirely convinced it could be called "tea") was finished, and Billa managed to drink some with his help, she seemed to relax. Her breathing was still a bit ragged, but the steam and soothing heat were visibly easing the halfling's discomfort. A small, clammy hand emerged from under the covers and grasped one of Thorin's fingers. The grip was weak, but steady.

"Thorin." She spoke in a whisper, but it didn't end in a cough. Billa struggled to keep her eyes open. She didn't want to descend into dreams again. Not now. "Talk..." she mouthed. "Talk to me."

Thorin looked puzzled. "What about? You just want me to... talk?" It certainly wasn't a comfortable task, speaking for its own sake, but it was what she wanted. He cleared his throat. "I don't know what to say. Fine words, pleasant words. They don't come easily to me. I've not had the luxury of such… friendly banter." He helped her take another sip of tea, and went on. "It's a thing for peacetime, and I've known little but war and strife and… exile."

He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this except that it's all that consumes me. I can't recall a time when grief and anger weren't roiling within my chest like dragon-fire itself." He set the cup on the table and leaned over her, meeting her shaky gaze with his own steady, though slightly discomfited one. "You, Billa. You've given me hope. Strange as it seems, I set out on this venture with little hope it would succeed. Knowing we had naught but a fool's chance. Gandalf encouraged me to try, though. Rather insistently, I might add."

A reflective smile appeared briefly, then vanished. That had been an interesting meeting with the Wizard, that day in the Blue Mountains when he'd come to speak of the Quest of Erebor. "He agreed to accompany us on the condition that you came, as well. At the time, I saw it as nothing more than a bizarre personal favor that would end in disaster." He squeezed her hand lightly. "I could never have been more wrong, Billa, and if I could take back my disparaging words- every last one- I would." He smirked faintly, remembering. "With the exception, perhaps, of my reprimand when you came to the Elvenking's dungeons, raging drunk. Those words you deserved."

The flush on Billa's cheeks darkened considerably. "Agreed," she whispered. "I was a fool." The hobbit still sounded shaky, but her words were clearer now.

"May I... tell you a secret?" It was only fair that she share some of the burden, since he was doing so much for her. When Thorin gave a cautious nod, she swallowed. "I'm scared."

"You'd have to be a fool not to be. Heading into a dragon's lair is no-"

"No. Not that." Billa shook her head, her grip on his finger tightening slightly. "The water. I'm... I'm afraid of water. I can't swim." She smiled a little. Funny how the water under the floorboards scared her more than the dragon under the Mountain.

Thorin tilted his head a little to one side. "The water? You're afraid of the water?" He hadn't even considered that. After such a mad escape in barrels down the river, which _she_ had orchestrated? "Why?"

Billa shivered, closing her eyes. "'s a Hobbit thing. 'm afraid of drowning." She made a face and tried to keep her breathing steady. Reaching shakily for the tea, she looked up at him.

"What's there to be afraid of? Can't you swim?" Thorin nudged the cup to the edge of the table so she could reach it. The possibility that she couldn't swim awoke in him sudden alarm, though he dismissed it as quickly as it had come. What creature with any sense of self-preservation didn't know how to swim? It was easy. Natural. When she looked embarrassed, he saw he'd assumed wrong.

"You can't swim? Truly?" Her expression said she didn't much appreciate his condescending tone. "Then why did you lead us out by way of the river? What if you'd fallen in and there'd been no one near enough to save you, Billa?" He frowned. "And why didn't you _tell_ me?" He wasn't trying to scold her, but he'd have been lying if he'd claimed he wasn't upset.

"It was the only way," she mumbled into the cup, her hoarse voice echoing oddly between clay and liquid. "I had to get you out. If you had known, we would have lost our only chance." Despite her determination, her face burned with shame. Swimming wasn't a skill any self-respecting hobbit possessed. Sure, the Bucklanders with their boats and big river... but they were all crazy. Most of them drowned in the end, anyway.

Thorin shook his head. "I wouldn't have stopped you," he said, wondering briefly if that reflected poorly upon him. "I wouldn't have. All the same, it would have been good to know. I would've kept a sharper eye out for you, or at least made certain you had a partner who could catch you if you fell in." He sighed through his nose. "We were fortunate. If we'd lost you..." _If _I'd_ lost you..._ He didn't finish the thought, but his tone hinted at deeper stirrings than his words could articulate, if he'd had a mind to speak of them at all.

Oin came bustling in at that moment, looking well-pleased by Billa's alertness, even if she wasn't nearly as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as usual.

"Well, well," he said, setting his kit on the table beside Thorin, "looks like a good night's rest didn't do you any harm." Billa submitted to Oin's brief exam, listening to him comment on how quickly she seemed to be recovering. He checked her cup and, after telling her to drink it all, departed with a smile. Things were looking up.

The hobbit sighed, letting her eyes close. She could hear it- the water below them, slapping quietly against the thick wooden supports. "What kind of an idiot builds a whole town on the water?" she whispered, shivering.

"A people terrified of fire," Thorin mused soberly. "I can't blame the refugees from Dale for taking such a precaution, though I doubt, in the event of a dragon attack, hovering over a lake would avail them much." He rested a hand reassuringly on her shoulder, standing. "I'm sure you'll get used to it eventually." A smile materialized briefly on his face, and departed. "I have business with the Master of the LakeMen, but I will return. Oin will attend you, and I'll speak to Ori about keeping you company. I know it is a," he hesitated, glancing at the floor, "lonely thing, being ill, and confined to bed."

He stepped to the door, turning back to glance at her a last time. "Rest well. And Billa... don't even _think_ about getting up. I'll not be pleased." Billa made small, grumpy, protesting sounds, but settled deeper into the bed to at least try to sleep again.

"Stay safe," came the hobbit's faint voice as he reached the door. "Come back soon."

Tauriel was waiting in the common room. When she saw Thorin, she strode toward him, looking grave. "A delegation from the Woodland Realm is here," she told him in an uncomfortable undertone. "They are in conference with the LakeMaster."

Balin looked up, his wise old face filled with concern. If Thorin was to face more of the Elvenking's people, then he would want to be there to see that his temper was kept in check.

Anger and concern poured into Thorin's face. "From the Woodland Realm?" His tone was dark. "Well, it's plain enough what they're about. Come, Balin." He stalked rigidly from the room, looking very much as though he were marching to battle.

* * *

The large meeting chamber was dark and drab, like most of Laketown, with ghastly taxidermied creatures adorning the walls and lurking in the corners, gazing mournfully through sightless glass eyes. Thorin found it rather unnerving, though the four, armed Elves sitting at the far end of the table were far more discomfiting.

The Master stood when the dwarf king entered, dipping his head briefly. "Welcome, Thorin Oakenshield," he said, a little more grandly than necessary.

Thorin halted at the table. "I understand you've requested my presence." His voice was low and edged with anger, ringing in the tense silence. All four elves eyed him, and while not openly hostile, none of them were happy. It wasn't until Tauriel ghosted through the door behind Thorin that anything changed. Three of the elves stood, reaching for their weapons.

The elf who remained sitting was Legolas. Thorin recognized him at once- those dark, otherworldly blue eyes were hard to forget. Equally difficult to forget were the prince's orders for his captain to shoot Kili. Duty or no, that did not sit well, and did absolutely nothing for Thorin's efforts at civility. "What business do you have with me, Thranduil's son?"

Legolas eyed the dwarf with intense dislike, but didn't stand. It was almost an insult, how he refused to give in to his temper so obviously. "I have no business with you, Dwarf. My business is with the traitor that stands with you- my _former_ captain." His gaze landed on Tauriel, burning with bitter anger. "You are to return with us, willing or no, and stand trial for your crimes."

Tauriel tensed only slightly, and her expression remained stoically blank. "You know I cannot return, my prince," she replied calmly. "Or shall I say 'former,' also, since I am no longer part of the Woodland Guard?" Her voice caught a little, but she seemed otherwise at ease with the situation.

Legolas shrugged. "It doesn't matter. You may no longer be captain, but you are still a citizen under Thranduil's rule, and must be held accountable for your betrayal. And for the mockery you have made of the Guard." There was something strange about the way he spoke, something… false. As though he were trying to be angrier than he really was. He glanced at the elves flanking him, then turned back to the red-haired elleth. "What is your answer? Will you come with us willingly?"

For a moment, she watched him, a strange expression on her face. She seemed _almost_ remorseful. Almost... grieved. But if that were the case, she hid it well. Rather than answering Legolas directly, she turned away from him and lowered herself to one knee, giving her full attention to Thorin.

"What is thy will, my king?" she asked, loud enough for the elves to hear her. Her voice shook ever so slightly. One of the Guard drew his bow, stiff with outrage, growling what sounded like an insult in Elvish.

Movement caught Thorin's eye. The prince. He'd stiffened, as though caught completely off guard, and now that Thorin looked at him, it was clear Legolas was in some amount of shock. The blond stood, slowly, his fingers gripping the sides of the long, narrow table. His face was pale with what might have been horror. Or rage. "You swore fealty to a _dwarf_?" Legolas spat the word as though it were some variety of disgusting insect.

Thorin might've been affronted by the elf's tone if he weren't already quite aware of how inconsequentially he and his kind were regarded by the prince. He glanced back at the kneeling elf beside him. "Say what you will." This particular personal disagreement was not one in which he cared to involve himself if it could be avoided.

Tauriel bowed her head slightly, then stood, turning to face Legolas and stepping forward to stand apart from Thorin. This discussion was between herself and her closest friend. She glanced sharply at the Guard whose arrow was aimed directly at her heart, and she lifted her hands slightly to show that she was unarmed.

"I came only to observe," she said carefully, still speaking in accented Westron, rather than Elvish. "If Prince Legolas wishes to speak with me- wishes me to explain myself- then I shall." When she had met the gaze of each elf in turn, she let her attention settle on Legolas.

"Do you hate your own kind so much, then, Tauriel?" The prince paced around the table, eyes hard, hands clenched at his sides. "I don't understand what my father did to make you turn against him like this. Perhaps you can explain _that_." There was something of a pleading quality beneath the iciness and hostility.

"What your father did," she answered, softly this time, as though reluctant to speak against Thranduil, "was turn a blind eye to the enemies that gather around us like flies on a carcass. I have sworn to help Thorin and his kin be rid of the dragon Smaug, nothing more, nothing less. Would that I had not needed to turn my back on anyone to fight against such evil. I shall serve as I am needed in order to free the land from its shadow. Anything less..." Tauriel hesitated, and a flicker of pain crossed her face. At least, it _looked_ like pain. "Anything less would not be my best effort, and would therefore be a shame to myself and my kin."

The red-haired elleth inhaled deeply, lifting her chin and meeting Legolas's gaze squarely. The anger and hurt in his face pained her deeply, and her mind harkened back to her own parting words. _You will always be my dearest friend, even when it seems I've forgotten what that means. I pray one day you'll forgive me._ If he ever forgave her at all, she would count herself among the most blessed of her kind.

"For five-hundred years, Tauriel, my father the king has protected you, given you his favor." Legolas looked as though he was treading a thin layer of anger and resentment over a lake of grief and resignation. The fury was- in the greatest part- feigned. Even Thorin, who considered himself no good judge of emotional nuance, could sense something of it. The prince was playing the part, and had no desire to bring Tauriel back with him at all. "You threw all that away, all in one moment, because he didn't share your views on the affairs outside our lands? Was that… wise?"

Tauriel stiffened, her green eyes growing hard. "Do you think so little of me?" she asked, her calm fraying a little at the edges. "Do you really believe that I would... give up all I've ever known, all I've ever loved, simply because... your father and I didn't agree?"

Loved. The word struck something of a chord within Legolas, if the look he turned on her now was any indication. "What have you loved?" The words issued in Elvish, and were accompanied by great hurt. "Nothing, apparently, that was enough to keep you there."

Tauriel was stunned by his words, and it registered openly in her face. She couldn't hide the hurt dealt by his... his complete lack of faith. "I have loved my home," she replied, also in Elvish, shaking her head slightly. "I have loved my people, my duty. And I have loved _you_. I came... I fight... because I love too much, Legolas."

This clearly caught the prince off guard, and he didn't seem to have the slightest idea how to feel about it. His features were hard to read, conflicted. "Loved? In what way? I'd thought… what you said when you left…." He trailed off uncertainly, taking a cautious step closer, his eyes softening a little.

Tauriel shook her head, stepping back to keep the space between them. The pain was even more evident now, her hands clenched at her sides, her shoulders nearly trembling with tension. "We can't," she warned him, and her voice shook. "You know we can't. You are the prince, Thranduil's only son. I'm just... just a traitor. Please, don't do this."

Legolas tore his gaze from her with some difficulty, realizing he'd said too much already, revealed too much. The guards behind him were beginning to murmur amongst themselves. Besides, she was right. They couldn't be together. Not now. Not after she'd done this to his father. However good her reasons were in her own eyes, and however thoroughly she believed in them, the fact remained that she had betrayed her own people and renounced her loyalty to her king. He had been a fool to think this might change… anything.

"You loved little enough," he said with renewed coldness, not looking at her. "I wonder that your new king trusts you at all. He knows you've turned your back on the one who's done so much for you, the one to whom you've been loyal all the long years of your life."

Tauriel flinched and closed her eyes, as though his words were an arrow, struck deep into her heart. Indeed, that was exactly how it felt. Legolas had targeted her weakness, and she knew it. She's always been fiercely proud of her own loyalty. Her responsibilities, her duties, her _life_... The she-elf felt as though something inside her were slowly crumbling away, leaving a chink in her armor.

"I wonder," she answered in Westron, bowing her head slightly, "if I am worthy of trust at all. But I can only act as my heart leads. I must fight. I must." Her voice broke slightly, and she turned away from him. "My king, if I may be excused," she whispered, struggling to control herself, wishing she were free to shed the tears that made her throat ache so.

Thorin nodded. He had not understood much of the exchange, but it was fairly obvious these two had a long history, and the she-elf was facing a keen sense of loss. Whether there was more to it than that, he couldn't tell, and didn't care to speculate. Tauriel left quickly, and the door swung quietly shut behind her.

There was a beat of silence, and then Legolas dipped his head in a manner that would only barely qualify as a bow. "As she has sworn fealty to you, Thorin Oakenshield, she is no longer the concern of the Woodland Realm." He glanced back at the others again, looking slightly anxious. "Our business here," he turned to the Master and performed a proper bow, "is finished."

With that, he strode purposefully toward the door, pausing only momentarily to see that the others followed. He allowed them to pass him, and turned back in the open doorway, waiting until they were out of hearing range. His voice was quiet, and the words barely had a chance to register before the prince, too, was gone. "Treat her well, Oakenshield."

Balin watched the door close once more and then turned slowly to look at his king. "Well. I won't pretend to know what half of that was about, but I'm glad it's all sorted." The old dwarf's white eyebrows were high on his wrinkled brow and he shook his head. Turning his attention to the Master of the Lake, he gave a friendly, slightly forced smile. "Was there anything else, m'lord?"


	39. Chapter XXXIX - Doubt

_A/N: Sorry we went AWOL for a while. Life kinda got crazy. Anyhow, to make up for our grievous lapse in posting, we shall post **two** chapters back to back. Amazing, right? As always, thanks to our dedicated readers and reviewers. You guys seriously blow our minds. Can't believe you've stuck with us this long. Do you realize you've practically read a novel, if not more? Wow. Without further ado... _

_Thirty Nine_

Tauriel was master of herself again when she stopped Thorin outside the common room shared by the dwarves. "Thorin, we need to talk. About your burglar." Her tone was grave, but seemed too tired to qualify as anything even approaching hostile. "I know not how she managed to wander our halls for so long and avoid detection- I don't even know what she is. I would like to be informed before we go any further, since I am to be in your service." There was a certain measure of wariness in her face and in her tone as she watched him for a reaction.

Thorin hesitated, looking vaguely distrustful. This sort of questioning made him uncomfortable, even as disposed as he had been earlier to believe she was completely genuine in pledging her loyalty to him. "What's it to you?" he asked, guardedly. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes quite a lot of difference." Tauriel had no intention of beating around the bush with him. Today had been more than enough without getting into an argument with her new king, too. "I rather dislike the idea of being allied with a sorceress or demon or some kind of orc- if your burglar is of the same Shadow I seek to destroy, then we may be at odds."

Thorin practically laughed at that, the thought was so absurd. "Sorceress? I'm sure she'd be amused by that idea." He shifted the towel-wrapped hot stone he'd been carrying to his other hand (he'd been on his way from the kitchen to Billa's suite). "No, whatever else she may be, she's not evil. Not remotely."

His face became grave again, though, when he considered, as he'd often done these past few days, the ring. That ring she had that made her invisible, and, as far as he knew, was the only thing that distinguished her from an ordinary halfling. He frowned slightly, thinking. Could that be evil? Where had she gotten it? He'd meant to question her on that point at the earliest opportunity, but she'd been so ill, he'd practically forgotten.

He met Tauriel's gaze strongly, not in the least intimidated by her height advantage. "I do not know how it is she managed to elude you during the time we were imprisoned. What I _do_ know is that I trust her to tell me when the time comes. Will that satisfy you for now?"

"I suppose it must," she agreed with a slight bow, a bow which said far more to her trust in him than her words implied. "But I would request to know of what race your burglar is a member. She is no dwarf, I know this, and she's certainly no elf." There was less concern in her green gaze now, and more curiosity. Thorin said the creature wasn't evil, and for now she would trust him. When she met the burglar, she would be able to judge for herself. In the meantime, what harm could she do in Laketown?

Thorin shook his head a little, shifting the stone again. "With all your long years and the wisdom with which your race is so often credited, one would think you'd be at least vaguely familiar with halflings." When she showed no recognition of the term, he was reminded of just how inconsequential hobbits were to the rest of the world, reminded of how little he himself had thought of them but a few short months ago.

"Halfling?" Tauriel seemed intrigued, but satisfied. "Perhaps another time, when you aren't otherwise occupied, you might impart some of your wisdom to me. I've never heard of halflings." There was no shame in admitting a deficit in one's knowledge of the world. After all, one couldn't know everything, right?

Thorin nodded lightly. "Perhaps. Now if you'll excuse me." He brushed past the she-elf and disappeared into Billa's suite, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Darkness. Solitude. The silvery light of the moon, illuminating a square patch of the floorboards. The distant lap of the water under the town. It was the quiet of the room that eventually broke down the hardy barriers Tauriel had built around herself. The door was closed, Kili was asleep. A more private moment was unlikely to present itself to her.

The she-elf rested her forehead against her knees and let the tears trace warm paths down her cheeks. Her home. Her fellows. She would never see them again. Never walk beneath the trees of the Greenwood, or watch the moon rise from the northern hills, or hear the wind whisper its secrets through the branches of her beloved forest. Tauriel's shoulders trembled with grief. Why was it that she was punished so for defending her world?

Kili roused at the muffled sobs, pulled from the light, healing sleep Oin had induced. His eyelids fluttered open, and through blurred vision, he saw a red and green smudge huddling beside him, which, after several more blinks, became Tauriel. So he hadn't been dreaming. She truly was here. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice slightly raspy with disuse, but obviously very concerned. "Why're you crying, Milady?" He tried to sit up, but his limbs were stiff and weak, and his leg still shot through with debilitating pain, even amidst the constant flood of opiates Oin had administered. He winced and lay down again.

Tauriel went abruptly and disconcertingly still. The silence between them lasted no more than a heartbeat, but it seemed much longer than that. When she spoke, her voice was clear, but unsteady.

"I am... fine. There are merely consequences for my actions. A price I must pay. I'm paying now." Her words became muffled toward the end, as the tears overflowed once more, against her wishes. Still, she unfolded lithe limbs and moved to help Kili take a drink. Her duty now was to tend to the wounded and guard them with her life. Even if that was all she did for the rest of her long years, she would not count it a loss. She refused to. Her hot, salty tears fell onto the young dwarf's face as she helped him lift his head to meet the cup in her other hand.

Kili stirred uncomfortably as she set the cup down again and propped him up on another pillow, wishing he could find words that wouldn't sound empty and hollow. "I... heard about that," he said softly. "Oin told me when he was here last. Said you'd... defied your prince. I... it's... it's a lot for me to take in." He sighed, looking rather dazed. "For what it's worth, I'm very grateful. For what you did." He stared up at her, astounded by her beauty even with eyes reddened by tears. "Thank-you, Tauriel."

The elf looked down at him, and her eyes, already filled with grief and tears, seemed to grow even sadder. "I did not do it for you," she told him in as gentle a tone as she could muster. "I am a terribly selfish creature, Kili. I do this... out of fear. I love the light too much to live in darkness." Tauriel let out a shuddering sigh and turned her face away from him, feeling quite overcome.

"I wouldn't have wanted you to do it for me," said Kili seriously. "Still, I'm thankful. I know it wasn't easy." He forced a smile, but it faded quickly. "I know how loyal you were to your king, but you did what had to be done. I'm... sorry, though, about... what happened with your prince. That must've been very hard on you."

"He... honestly believed..." Tauriel trailed off. Could Legolas had really thought that she loved her home and her people so little? Could he have truly thought that she was so fickle, that her affection for him was nothing? She rested a hand on Kili's head, lacing her fingers through his thick black hair. It felt stiff with dried sweat. With a low sigh, she reached toward the basin and dipped the rag that hung over the edge into the water. She was, in a way, grateful that Kili needed her attention now, when things seemed so very, very wrong. With gentle hands, she bathed his face and neck, rinsed his hair and attempted to soothe him back into sleep.

An odd feeling of unworthiness struck Kili as she doted on him. It was borne of Thorin's words in the Elvenking's dungeon. _"We're nothing to them."_ But... how could that be true? Certainly it wasn't true of her. Before he'd gone much further with this train of thought, though, he drifted off once more.

* * *

Billa inhaled the steam from her tea, relaxing as the tight scratchiness in her throat eased. She wasn't delirious with fever anymore, and she could speak normally without it turning into a sincere attempt by her lungs to escape through her mouth. Life was definitely looking up. Thorin, however, wasn't.

"Alright. What is it? You've been staring at the floor for ten minutes- it can't be that interesting." The halfling ran a concerned eye over her troubled leader. He sat with his head down, dark hair hanging loose and wild, hiding his face from her.

Thorin looked up, finally, his hair falling back as he turned his gaze on her. "Billa, there's... there's something I've been meaning to ask you about. I've held off because you were so ill, but now... I think it can wait no longer." He sighed and scooted his chair a little closer to the bed. Clasping his hands together, he stared at them intently. "I need to know about this ring. What it is, how you came by it. I know something of magic rings, but I have never heard of one that makes its wearer invisible."

Billa tipped her head gently to one side, a faint, crooked smile playing about her lips. "Is that all? Well, I found it in the goblin tunnels. It was just lying on the ground, so I put it in my pocket and took it with me. Didn't learn what it did until later."

Thorin didn't seem comforted in the slightest. "Just... lying on the ground," he repeated, frowning. "Not of goblin make, certainly. They've no magic of that sort, if they've any at all." Then he remembered how evasive she'd been when she showed up once more after they'd escaped the goblins. It had struck him as very strange at the time.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, concerned. "Why didn't you tell Gandalf?"

Billa's expression became immediately guarded. Her hazel eyes narrowed slightly as she turned, almost as though to defend herself against him. "It wasn't important. I escaped. That was what you wanted, right? I heard you from the trees, thinking I was dead. I survived, and that should have been enough." The halfling's tone had become sharp, and her suspicious gaze didn't leave him for a second. With one hand, she held the mug of tea. With the other, she was searching her pockets.

There was no doubt about what she meant to find. Her knuckles turned almost white on the mug before she relaxed, her free hand closing around something in a pocket under the covers. She didn't make a sound, and her expression changed only subtly, but once the ring was in her hand, she seemed to calm down.

Thorin didn't like the look of this. It wasn't like Billa. It was as though he'd threatened her somehow. Threatened something very close and dear to her. No, he didn't like this at all.

"I asked only," he said gently, "because Gandalf may have been able to tell you something about it. May have known whether it was dangerous or not- who'd made it, and for what purpose." Not for the first time since the Wizard had gone, Thorin wished he were with them again. "I'd be careful about wearing it, in future. It is risky to make use of power when you've no idea of its source. If you found it in the goblin tunnels, it may well have some dark origin."

Billa hesitated, and the silence seemed all but gravid with her uncertain expression. When at last she spoke, it wasn't in the sharp tone she'd used before. "I dislike the thought that it may be an evil thing," she whispered, her gaze on him and yet not, looking through him, rather than at him. "When you say so, the idea is repulsive. Yet... it makes me angry, in a strange way. I don't like it." The hobbit closed her eyes and shook her head hard, as though tossing autumn leaves from her curls. Withdrawing her hand from her pocket as if burned, she clamped the mug between both hands, shoulders hunched. "Let's not speak of it. The thing is heavy on my mind. I don't like it."

Thorin exhaled heavily through his nose, unclasped his hands. "I would not use it idly. But I trust you to know your own weakness. Have a care." He decided to let the matter rest. He was no less uneasy, but until the Wizard returned, he would not broach the subject again. That wasn't to say he wouldn't keep an eye on her, watch and wait, see if there were more to it than perhaps even she realized. "I'll fetch your lunch," he said, and pushed himself up. He could feel the eyes of the halfling as she watched him go, and wondered, not for the first time, nor for the last, what he was getting himself into.


	40. Chapter LX - Foreboding Words

_Forty_

The following day, Thorin found his burglar looking much improved. She'd been very cooperative with Oin's healing efforts this time (as well as Thorin's devoted care), and the rest she'd been able to take over the course of their stay saw a return of much of her strength and vigor. She looked (and felt) very much herself again, and was beginning to tire of Thorin's tyrannical demands for her to stay in bed.

"Oin says you could relapse," the dark-haired dwarf explained earnestly, offering her another spoonful of soup. "Another day's rest, at least, and then we'll see about you getting up."

Billa scowled at him, but there was a smile lurking behind her hazel eyes, and she accepted the spoon with moderately good grace.

"You're impossible. I told you before- I'm fine. Hobbits don't 'relapse.' We get sick and get over it." She was sitting up, propped (at Thorin's insistence) against a ridiculous pile of cushions. There were blankets across her legs, and she submitted to his fussing with only minor disagreements- for one thing, she didn't like having her feet covered all the time. Currently, the blankets were folded back so her large, hairy feet were exposed to the light and warmth of the fire.

"Couldn't I just come out to the common room for a bit? I'm dying of boredom in here."

Thorin rubbed an eye thoughtfully, then nodded. "But only for an hour or so. The others will probably... overwhelm you with their good wishes and affections." He gave her another spoonful of soup, then set the bowl on the table. "I'll move some of your pillows out to the chair."

When the halfling was safely settled near the fire in the common room, Ori moseyed over, smiling. She was carrying the grey knitted shawl she'd made, looking alternately bashful and proud. "For you, Billa," she said, wrapping it gently around the hobbit's shoulders. It had a pleasing drape to it, and little tassels at the edges. "Thought it might keep you warm."

Billa touched the shawl, a warm, open smile on her round face. "Oh, Ori... this is beautiful! You made this?" When Ori indicated that she had, the little halfling sprang out of her chair (followed closely by Thorin's protests) and gave Ori a tight hug. "I love it, Ori."

Ori was a little surprised by Billa's crushing thankfulness and intimidated by Thorin's reaction. "I'm glad you like it. It was the least I could do."

Scolding Billa good-humoredly, Thorin helped her back into the chair and tucked the blankets around her again. Bombur waddled closer to express his relief at seeing Billa looking so well, and Dwalin nudged Thorin's shoulder. The bald dwarf had a look of concern and displeasure on his face, and pulled his leader aside, to the far corner of the commons. He jerked his thumb toward Billa.

"Some o' the lads have been... talkin'," he said in an undertone. "Wonderin' just why you've been spendin' so much time with the halfling lately. There's been some amount of... grumblin'. About the business you've been neglectin', preparations yet to be made."

Thorin looked mildly affronted. "That's none of their concern," he growled. "I do as I wish, and as I see fit. The burglar is a priority, and if she's not well by the time we must leave, all will be for naught. You can tell them that."

Dwalin scowled, but he wasn't angry. Thorin, who had known him and fought at his side for years, would be able to see the subtle differences- Dwalin was honestly worried.

"Thorin, this ain't like you," he growled, peering into his comrade's face. "You're fussin' and hoverin' over that halfling like a mother hen, and we're not even armed yet. She could be the thrice-blessed Flower-Maid herself- she's done somethin' to you, lad."

"No, she has _not_." Thorin's blue eyes leapt up to pierce Dwalin's gaze with sudden intensity. "You know as well as I do, we need her. I care for her because... I am the most suited for it. She knows me. She trusts me. I gave her my word I'd see her well, and that is precisely what I intend to do. So I'll thank you to mind your own business, Dwalin." With that, he turned away.

Bombur was presenting Billa with a plate heaped with slices of some strange, bright red fruit he'd found in the market. "They said it'd cure anything that ails ya," the fat dwarf said, chuckling. "Don't know if it's true or not, but it's worth a try."

"I dunno, Brother," came Bofur's cheeky voice from across the room. "More'n likely, it'll give 'er a bad case of indigestion!" Billa was laughing merrily, seeming very much at ease and much happier out here with the others than she had been, cooped up in her room. She took a slice of the red fruit with dainty fingers and tested it as only an experienced cook would, squeezing, smelling, and tasting it before deciding to eat it.

"Not like anything I've tasted before," she commented with a thoughtful smile. "Might make a decent pie."

The dwarves were, apparently, far too preoccupied with showering Billa with attention to notice their leader's discomfited expression. Dwalin had been mistaken, of course, but to say the thought hadn't occurred to him before would be a lie. As Bofur and Dori settled by the fire to play a song or two for Billa, the halfling's gaze picked Thorin out of the shadows, where he lurked, apart from the group. Her smile faded slightly, and her features took on a worried cast as their eyes met. She could tell he was uncomfortable, and even if she could see nothing more than that, it was enough.

Thorin was having trouble deciphering the look. What was it? Concern? Why should she be concerned for him? Dwalin's words were troubling him, though. Perhaps she saw that in his face. He forced a faint smile, then turned away. Oin, he decided, could help her back to bed. Touching Balin's shoulder, he led the older dwarf some ways apart.

"What preparations are yet to be made? We need to be ready to leave in... no more than three days. Dwalin's expressed some... concerns."

The white haired dwarf had just opened his mouth to reply when there was a knock at the door. Not an insistent, impatient one. A rather... decorous knock. Thorin caught Bofur's glance and nodded. Bofur set his instrument aside and made his way toward the door, opening it and bowing politely to the man on the other side. A human servant, wearing the uniform of the Master's house, bowed in return and stepped just over the threshold.

"Thorin Oakenshield," he said, clearly enough to be heard by all, "Dwarves of Erebor, and honored guests," his eyes flicked over Billa, "the Master wishes you to attend a feast, to be held in your honor two days hence, at sundown. Any preparations you may need to make for the occasion, any clothes or other supplies you require, may be requested at your leisure." The servant's eyes landed on Thorin. "How shall I tell the Master you have received his invitation?"

Thorin hesitated, glancing from Balin back to the messenger. So... a parting celebration, then. He shrugged slightly. It certainly wouldn't hurt the morale, provided they had at least a day to recover afterward, as the lads were sure to drink themselves out of their minds. "You may tell the Master we gratefully accept. In the meantime, there are other preparations to be made. Balin here will tell you what we'll be needing." With a small bow, Thorin turned away, having a quick word with Oin before retiring to his chambers. It was clear he needed some time to think. Dwalin's concerns, however firmly Thorin rebuffed them, were not so easily dismissed from his mind.

* * *

A knock came at the door to Thorin's room, and Bofur's hatted head popped in, squinting around in the dim lighting for- "Ah! Thorin, there's someone te see ye. The bargeman that brought us 'ere, no less."

Thorin sat up slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "The bargeman?" He stretched a little, then eased himself off the bed. In the common room, he saw that Bard had already been admitted, and was waiting for him at the central table, his already dour face distinctly troubled. There was, happily enough, no sign of Billa. She had, apparently, been returned to her room, where she belonged.

Thorin looked puzzled, but greeted the man with a nod. "What brings you here?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid," responded Bard with a sigh, standing and bowing slightly to the dwarf king. "I'm here to... well, to request you don't travel to the Mountain. It'll end in disaster, right enough, and that'll apply to us, as well as you."

Thorin stiffened, fixing Bard with an incredulous look. "What?" He crossed his arms. "What do you mean? You would ask me to abandon altogether the very reason for which I have come? You must be mad."

Bard grimaced. He'd clearly expected a reaction like this, but it made it no less difficult to deal with. The other dwarves had fallen silent, and were now listening intently to the conversation at the center table.

"You were right when you said the memory of men is short. But we haven't forgotten entirely. There is a prophecy, spoken many years hence by one of the ravens of yore, which foretold disaster, should the King Under the Mountain return." The silence seemed to deepen, if that was possible. Bard took a deep breath, and recited the old prophecy, eyes half-closed to help his memory.

_The lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone,_

_The King Beneath the Mountain shall come into his own._

_And the bells will ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return,_

_But all shall fail in sadness, and the Lake will shine and burn._

Thorin shrugged. "What of it?" He was inwardly troubled, but to show that to his Company, whose morale was already fragile with the possibility of imminent death... that he could not afford. "Why place so much credence in an old, naysaying poet's words? You'd rather live forever in terror of the dragon's coming? If we do not go, no one will. And I have good cause to believe we will succeed." He glanced at Balin for support, but found the old dwarf looking markedly concerned. Shaking his head a little, Thorin turned back to Bard. "We do not go to wake the beast, or rouse him to wrath- we go to scout, to see if a weakness may be found. All care and caution will be taken, and if he is awakened, I shall see that his ire falls upon... my people alone."

"Whether that is what you go to do or not," replied the bargeman doubtfully, "there is always the chance. The dragon is sure to waken sooner or later, and should it be you to wake him, the deaths of my people will be your burden to bear, to the end of your days."

"Oi, now," Bofur exclaimed in protest. "There's no call fer that, lad. We'll succeed, come hell r' high water, an' by my beard, there's not a dwarf among us that'd not lay 'is life down te see this dragon dead' n gone." He nodded firmly, and the others murmured their approval.

"I will accept the responsibility," said Thorin gravely, "should our plans miscarry. My grandfather's greed brought the dragon. It is only right that I do not rest until it has been slain." He eyed Bard with an evaluating air, seating himself at the table beside him. "You have a noble look about you, bargeman," he said at length, more quietly, "and you can doubtless understand the sense of duty I carry. It is my destiny to rid the land of Smaug- I am sure of it. If your grandsire had failed his people, would you not wish to do right by them?"

Bard studied Thorin a while before he answered. "My great-great grandfather was Lord Girion of Dale. It was he that wielded the Windlance over the Eastern Gate, he that failed to kill the dragon before it could rout the Mountain, as it had already destroyed his home." The man's tone was grave, and he paused to run a large, calloused hand through his unruly hair. "I understand better than most, I think. Even as a mere bowman, reduced to running a barge for the Master's profit, I feel responsible for my people." There was another lengthy pause, but he eventually turned his gaze on Thorin again. "I'll put my trust in you, Mountain King. I believe you will succeed, though I fear the cost of that success."

Thorin nodded soberly, a new sort of wonder in his face. He'd known the man to be of noble heart, but he certainly would never have guessed at the particular lineage he claimed. "I am honored by your faith, descendent of Girion. Your warning, also, I value. I hope to see the day when Dale rises once more from the ashes, and your family is restored to its rightful eminence."

Bard sighed heavily and stood. "I'm not sure my taking my grandsire's place would do the men of Esgaroth any good," he admitted, a bit grimly, "seeing how it turned out in his time. In any case, I wish you the best of luck, my friend. Oh, and if you happen to see my coat around- I'd like it back at some point. It's the only one I own."

Thorin turned to Bofur. "Fetch the man his coat. It's probably in Billa's room." Bofur retrieved it as asked, and handed it to Bard with a light bow. "I thank you for its use," Thorin said courteously, recalling now with strange fondness the unpleasant trip across the lake. "And may fortune grant you a better one ere long."

Bard pulled his coat on with a faintly relieved expression, bowed to Thorin and turned to go. Bofur stopped him briefly and shook his hand heartily, wishing him well in his business, and pressing a small package into his hands. Bard, clearly confused, unwrapped one end of the parcel, and found two exquisitely carved toy horses and a detailed wooden replica of Billa's little sword. When Bard glanced at Bofur in surprise, the hatted dwarf shrugged with a crooked smile.

"Me brother wanted ye te have 'em. As thanks."

Bifur glanced at Bard and grunted softly, looking pleased with himself. Bard's mouth twitched into a smile.

"I... accept, and gladly. My children will enjoy them." Slowly, and with a wondering look still on his face, the man departed.

After Bard had gone, Thorin turned to Balin, catching his eye, and moved off into his own chamber again. The white-haired dwarf, of course, followed. "What do you make of that?" Thorin asked, collapsing into his chair by the fire. "Does this portend ill? He does not seem... a man who trifles. There is grave truth in him. It worries me."

Balin stood quietly near the hearth, staring pensively into the flames. "Well, I certainly don't think it bodes well for us," he confessed after a long moment. "On the other hand, as you say, it may well be the nay-saying of a poet of old. It claims the status of a prophecy, but we have no way of either confirming or denying that claim, and it'd be downright foolish to delay or default now, simply because we received an ambiguous warning." Balin fell silent, and his intelligent gaze shifted from the fire to his young king.

"I know," Thorin replied, massaging his temples. "It's just... I've never been fond of uncertainty. Particularly uncertainties that could result in the deaths of thousands. Will my name be spat with hatred in years to come for the path I pursue today?" He turned a plaintive look on Balin. "I suppose having such doubts is a sign of weakness. Why do you still follow me, Balin? Why do you trust me?"

Balin smiled faintly, moving over to clasp Thorin's shoulder in a fatherly fashion. "Asking why I trust you is like asking why the sun rises, Thorin. I trust you because you've proved to me again and again that you're worthy of that trust." He closed his eyes for a moment, as though remembering. "I don't believe a lack of doubt is a sign of strength any more than a lack of fear is a sign of courage. Would you say that you weren't afraid, the day you faced Azog among the burning pines? Or when you fought him before the gates of Moria? It is your courage in the face of fear, your strength in the face of doubt- that is why I follow you. That is why you are my king."

There was a moment of quiet between them when he finished, broken only by the soft crackle of the flames in the grate. When Balin spoke again, it was with the faintest of laughs in his voice. "How would you respond if I asked you why you trusted me? Or Dwalin? Or Miss Baggins?"

Thorin half-smiled. "I would tell you to stop being ridiculous. Without you, I'd be nothing. The strength to face death- again and again- I don't know from what well that is drawn. All I know is I do what I must, and I'll continue to do so until the dragon falls... or I do."

"And that's why I trust you, my lad." Balin gripped Thorin's shoulder bracingly, a confident smile on his bearded face. "You know where your priorities lie. Is there anything I can get for you? You look like you could use a stiff drink."

"I'll wait until the feast." Thorin eased himself out of the chair, brushing past Balin with a grateful nod. "I need to look in on Billa."

* * *

Tauriel sat with her back to the bedpost, legs folded neatly under her lithe body. Her head was tipped back to rest against the wood, her eyes closed. If it weren't for the absolute stillness of her, one might think the elf was asleep. When Kili stirred, waking from what had seemed to be a deep and restful sleep, Tauriel rose fluidly to stand over him, passing a hand gently over his brow. A faint smile crossed her face.

"The fever's broken," she murmured, sounding relieved. "Recovery will be a much easier road from here." As Kili's eyes opened, she turned away to pour him a cup of water. His expression was clearer than it had been since the arrow had entered his leg. This was cheering news. Kili's dark brows were slightly knit, as though he were remembering something, or trying to figure something out.

After a moment passed in silence but for the sound of Tauriel filling the cup, he sat up a little. "You shot me!" he blurted out, as though that fact hadn't fully registered in his brain until now. His tone was more incredulous than angry. This whole situation, perceived vaguely through half-remembered images interspersed with dreams, was very, very confusing. Tauriel paused, then turned slowly to face him. There was regret in her face as she nodded slowly.

"Yes... I did." The elf watched him with some amount of apprehension, unsure of how he would react now that he was in full possession of his mental faculties.

Kili was staring very hard at a knot in the wooden wall. He swallowed heavily. "You shot me," he repeated quietly, still not looking at her. "Why? Why would you...? It doesn't make sense."

Tauriel took a deep breath, then, calmly, answered as she pressed the cup of water into his hand. "To save your life." She let him process that a moment, then went on. "I was commanded to shoot. Another would have killed you where you stood. Another would have taken my place if I refused. So... I shot." Another beat of silence. "If you would prefer, I'll let another tend to you. I merely... wished to make up for the damage I dealt."

Kili thought this over a moment, halfway considering, holding the cup in his lap. Was he angry with her? Her answer made sense, of course, but still... it was hard to take. It wasn't a betrayal, but all the same, it felt as if it somehow were. "That... really hurt," he said at last, with a rather puzzling expression on his face. As if he couldn't really decide how to feel. "But... I guess it could've been worse." He smiled faintly, brushing his hand lightly over his bandage. "A fine shot, m'lady."

Tauriel looked at the bandage and sighed. "A non-lethal one. That was what I cared about. Enough to stop you, not enough to kill you. But... I needed to give you more time..." The elf's brow creased in what was almost a frown. As though she herself were still trying to figure it all out. "So I shot again. Slowed the others. Nearly pinned your hand to the lever." It was an observation only. After a moment, she shook her head. "Shall I leave you to think?" He looked like he needed the time. Tauriel acknowledged the thought that Kili may no longer be her friend. She was willing to accept that price in exchange for his life.

Kili reluctantly nodded. "Yeah. Maybe... maybe send Fili in. Let me talk to him." He took a tiny sip of water, then set it back on the table beside him. "I mean, it's not that I want you to go, it's just that... well... oh, I don't know what to think. Maybe I'm a little... overwhelmed by it all."

"I understand." The elf touched his shoulder gently as she glanced toward the door. "Call me, and I will come." And with those words, she turned from him and left. Only moments after the door closed behind her, it opened again, admitting Fili. The dwarf seemed tremendously relieved to see his brother awake, and not delirious.

"Brother! Kee, you're awake! Thank Mahal."

Kili's face brightened a little at his brother's exuberance. "Aw, you act so surprised. Like I might not've pulled through or something." He grinned, patting his leg. "This is nothin'. Gimme a day or two and I'll be right as rain for the trip. Wounded leg or not, you and me'll still be miles ahead of those old-timers, eh, Fee?"

Fili's expression seemed to fold suddenly, and his relief vanished in a twinkling. With a grimace, he took a seat at the edge of Kili's bed. "You'll... not be coming with us, Brother. We don't have the time to wait. Durin's Day is less than a fortnight away." Fili sounded deeply disappointed, nearly grieved by this.

Kili thumped his brother's arm. "Don't joke about things like that. Honestly." When his brother's somber demeanor didn't give way to a telltale grin, Kili's face fell. "You're... serious." The dark-haired dwarf shook his head firmly. "No. No no no. We've talked about this moment our entire lives, Fili! Entering the Mountain, seeing the long-lost halls of our people." His expression became suddenly very determined, his voice resolute. "Uncle is _not_ going to take that from me. I'm going with you."

He flung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at the pain, but trying to ignore it. "I'm just... fine," he continued, as if trying to convince himself. He slid off the bed, but as he put weight on his leg, he uttered a strangled yelp and crumpled to the floor.

"Just fine," he hissed through his teeth a moment later.

Fili was too late to catch his brother. He hooked his hands under Kili's armpits and heaved him back onto the bed again, his pallor as grey as cold porridge. It was clear he'd thought over all the arguments, all the ways of it- and had come back to the single nasty thought again and again. Kili wouldn't be able to make the journey to the Mountain in time.

"I'll stay, Brother. I'll not go without you." The very words seemed to pain him, but the same stubborn determination that have made his dark-haired brother attempt to walk in spite of the pain now made Fili make the offer of, what was to them, the ultimate sacrifice.

Kili winced a little, trying to settle in a position that didn't hurt as much. Then he turned to look at his brother, the full weight of his offer suddenly registering. After considering a moment, he sighed, shaking his head.

"No, Fee. I wouldn't want you to. It's... not something that would really help me, you staying, and... Uncle needs you with him. Besides, I'd rather at least one of us went." He smiled grimly. "You can tell me all about it afterward, I guess. Won't be the same, but it'll be something."

Fili tried not to look too relieved. With a faint smile, he laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You'll be healed in plenty of time to help us fight the dragon. No worries there." The smile became a grin. "Imagine the tales we'll tell, eh?"

Kili nodded slowly. "Yeah. I just... I hope you all come back. I hope Billa doesn't wake him." He nearly shuddered at the thought. Dragon wrath was one thing to speak of in tales, quite another to encounter in truth. One part of him felt ashamed to leave such perils up to the rest of the Company while he stayed behind, safe, in Laketown. The other part reasoned he'd be more hindrance than help in his condition.

He gripped his brother's arm suddenly, looking Fili straight in the eye. "Don't die. If you do, I won't have anyone to tell me when I'm being an idiot. Just imagine what sort of horrible trouble I'll get myself into!" As tongue in cheek as his words were, there was a root of seriousness beneath them. He couldn't imagine life without his brother.

Fili's grin faded slightly as he confronted the fact that some, if not all of them, might die. He opened his mouth, but found it too dry for words. After several false starts, he nodded slightly.

"I'll do my best, Brother." Life without Kili would be... wrong. He could only imagine his little brother felt the same.

"Billa's up and about again," he said, changing the topic somewhat inelegantly. At Kili's confused glance, the blond explained. "She got sick after that dunk in the river. For a while, it looked like she'd have to stay here. But she's better now, or mostly so. And the Lake Men are throwing us a party in a couple days. How's that for respect, huh?"

"A party?" Kili perked up a tad. "Music to my ears. You'll probably have to carry me there," he mused. Then he grinned. "And you'll _definitely_ have to carry me back, so don't get too plastered. Besides, knowing Uncle, he'll put a damper on everyone's fun and tell 'em they can't drink themselves under the table. 'Wouldn't do to be fighting headaches all the next day' and such. That's what he'll say." It was nice to be able to speak of such homey things- parties and drinking and brotherly fun- even if their respite was only temporal. Even if he was going to be left behind. Alone, as far as he could tell. Unless... but surely _she_ wouldn't stay behind. She was a warrior, not a nursemaid.

"Aw, you're no fun! I'll get Tauriel to carry you back. No way she's getting so much as tipsy. She's so... serious." Fili made a face, then laughed. "Still, it'll be fun. What say you we spike Uncle Thorin's drink? It'll do him good to loosen up a bit."

"Ohhh." Kili grinned mischievously. "That's just plain wicked, you know that? After what happened last time! He all but vowed to skin us alive if we ever tried something like that again." He nudged Fili, snickering. "Not like that would ever stop us, though."


End file.
